The Shadow King and the Dark Prince
by Bonzai-Bunny
Summary: Tragedy strikes in the Nekozawa household and Umehito finds his world tumbling into a deeper darkness than he thought possible. Can an unexpected person show him that it's okay for everyone to be a little afraid of the dark?
1. Prologue

Warning: Angst. This is going to be pretty angsty even by my standards.

Disclaimer: I don't own Ouran.

Authoress Note: This is definitely going to be a challenge for me. I've never written anything where the two characters didn't feel anything for each other and it was multi-chaptered. Yes, the prologue is short, but it will get better. Also, because of my picky nature, this is constantly going under re-writes, but nothing too major, I promise. I should also mention that this fic pulls from, later on, on my other fic "Castle Down." It's not necessary to read it, but it does help.

-o0**Prologue**0o-

A delicate hand clenched tightly to a charcoal pencil made swift movements along sketching paper. An intent look in pale, azure eyes showed that their owner was in deep concentration, concentration of what seemed to be forming itself on the pad in front of him. Umehito Nekozawa was completely silent as he let the image come. He, himself, wasn't entirely sure of how the drawing would end up, but he didn't want to worry about that then. It was that time where he tried not to worry about much of anything.

It was then, on the dark hours before sunrise, he was truly allowed to stay himself. With his long flaxen hair framing his dainty face and ivory skin, he wore no cloak and no wig. There was no one around to fear his dark nature. There was no one to witness anything, but the moon herself.

He sat on plush carpet with the white rays of the moonlight barely kissing him and his sketch book. When the rest of the household was floating gently away in midst of dreams, he would often think. It was his private time and his time to sketch everything away.

Nobody knew about his hobby, though. The flowers and serene images he sometimes drew were such a contrast to the Dark Prince; he wasn't sure how any of his club or family members would take it, but it was his paradise. Nekozawa knew that he would never be able to freely see flowers as they blossomed as most people, because, after all, he was cursed, so he drew.

Drawing was sort of a comfort to him. It was something he could have to himself that was precious in its own little way. He sketch helped to not become totally engrossed in darkness. It helped him feel.

The muffled sound of feet outside his bedroom alerted his attention. He grabbed Bereznoff to his right and put the sketch pad underneath his bed. It wasn't like he had a worry of anyone coming into his room and snooping around, but he liked to be careful. The sound outside his door became louder as more people began to run past his room. Eventually, curiosity got the best of Nekozawa and he opened the door, startling a maid running past.

"What's going on?"

"Y-young master! What are you doing up?" She stuttered, avoiding the question.

Nekozawa became more worried when a family doctor neared them.

He was a balding Japanese man in his late fifties. His tan bony hands wrung around each other, a habit of nervousness, when he spotted Nekozawa. The man bowed his head.

"Nekozawa-sama…"

"What's going on?" He asked in a firmer voice, "Is someone hurt?"

The man's brief silence and nervous glance toward the ground confirmed his suspicions.

"It's Kirimi-chan…" Nekozawa felt his heart stop, then shatter. A strange lump formed in his throat.

"She's…unwell. She had a high fever and-"

The doctor didn't get out another word before Nekozawa burst out running in the direction of his little sister's room. Tears began to sting his eyes on his way there; he had a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach.

When he got to her room, the door was already open and maids were surrounding the area. They all lowered their voices when they spotted him, as though guilty. It only made the feeling worse. Nekozawa walked near the open door only to be forced back from the brightness of the room. He cursed himself for not thinking to bring his cloak or wig. When his eyes adjusted, he was not prepared for what he saw.

Kirimi had been laid on a mat from her bed with doctors already by her side. Her azure eyes were wide open as her petite body shook and convulsed. A thin trail of blood led from her mouth.

"No…" Nekozawa whispered as confusion and fear began to swarm inside of him. What was going on? Why was this happening? His sister was-Gods, she was… Why weren't they _helping_ her?

The fear in him turned into rage as he pushed himself through the doorway.

"Nekoza-"

"No! Kirimi!"

A strong pair of hands blocked him from the sight of his still trembling little sister, an image that was beginning to blur from tears.

"Sir, you can't-"

"Kirimi!" He screamed hysterically, still trying to keep sight of his sister, but his vision began to dizzy. Something else was pulling him back, but all Nekozawa was concentrated on was trying to get to Kirimi. He knew he was probably still screaming. He was still sobbing and clawing desperately to get by, but nothing else mattered.

The images Nekozawa saw were blurred and distorted dramatically. His head was spinning and his chest was heavy. His breathing ragged and he almost gasped out breaths between the screaming. The images began to get farther and farther away.

"_No_…"

It was one last futile attempt. Spoken or thought, Nekozawa couldn't tell. The last sight he saw before slipping to the ground was a stretcher making its way into the bedroom before all he saw was darkness.

-o0o-

A/N: For all of those who are wondering, no, Kirimi did not die. Even I'm not that cruel. I'm hoping I've got the details of the seizure down correctly. Again, please tell me if I don't. Also, I'm sorry if this isn't updated very soon. I'm very busy at the moment.


	2. Waking Up

Warning: Angst. I think that's pretty obvious at this point. Eventual Boy love.

Disclaimer: Don't own it. Never will.

Authoress Note: I changed this back into the original chapter two and three respectively. The format annoyed me so I changed it, sorry for the inconvenience.

-o0o-

Nekozawa's cerulean eyes flew open searching for something, anything, to focus on. His skin was soaked in a cold sweat, his breathing still ragged and heavy. He felt sick. Panic struck him almost immediately and a swarm of thoughts buzzed through his head. Where was he? Where was Bereznoff? _Where was Kirimi? _

A horrible, sickening feeling crept through his chest. What happened to her? Did she...did she die? He felt fear sear his stomach and pound at his head. Kirimi couldn't be dead, could she?

"Nekozawa-sama."

He jumped at the unexpected sound of a voice cutting through silence. He hadn't noticed there was someone else in his room, sitting in the darkness next to his bed. He vaguely recognized her as one of his favorite maids, Naomi-chan. She turned on the oil lamp next to his bed. It was dim enough that it didn't hurt the male, but bright enough that she could see his face. He was obviously anxious to what she was about to say.

She smiled at him, gently, in a mother-like way in an attempt to calm him down. Her blue-grey eyes twinkled, just like with every smile, but the pools of darkness underneath them told a different story. She had sat by him the whole time, possibly awake through most of it.

Nekozawa looked down at his hands, cheeks burning in shame. Finally, he remembered that he should probably speak. His mouth tasted like cotton and his throat burned as though scraped with metal wire, but he found his voice. It was scratchy at first, dry and rough through the smoothness of silence.

"Is Kirimi...okay?"

The maid seemed to notice how the word "okay" dripped with fear and uncertainty and that the male was using it as a substitute for "dead." Fear of such a word was a far cry from the president of the Black Magic Club.

"She's okay," but before Nekozawa could fully form a relieved face, she interrupted, "but she's in the hospital. I'm afraid you can't see her right now."

It took a few seconds for the words to fully digest and Nekozawa stared at her, mouth open in shock.

"Why?" He couldn't see his baby sister? Why? Why? _Why? _That word seemed to echo in his mind.

"She isn't in a completely stable condition, sir. The virus that they believed caused the fever that caused her seizures-" Seizures? There was more than one? "-hasn't left her system. They fear there might be more that could cause brain damage." More?

"I'm sorry, sir."

Nekozawa felt like he was drowning, everything was so bleary, grey, and cold. He didn't understand why this was happening. Kirimi couldn't be in the hospital, she was too young for that. She shouldn't be there, she was the strong one. If anything _he _should be there. It didn't make sense. He stared at his now shaking hands again through tear blurred eyes.

"I thought she was dead," he admitted, barely above a whisper.

It shouldn't have been like this. He shouldn't have had this incredible pounding pain in his chest and head. Nekozawa couldn't tell if it were his hands or him shaking. _I thought she was dead. _He was panicking again. He didn't notice that his cheeks were now dampened with the salty liquid of his tears.

"Here Nekozawa-sama, drink this. It should calm you down."

He numbly took the drink and mumbled a small, "Thank you."

His hands were warmed slightly by the cup, but that was the only effect he felt as he brought it to his lips and drank as numbly as he took the cup. The whole process seemed numb. He repeated the action until the tea was gone and he handed it back to the maid. Nekozawa began to feel heavy after drinking the liquid. So heavy, that his eyes began to flutter close and that his erratic breathing slowed to an even pace. He felt so _tired. _

He felt like he was sinking through the mattress, like it'd only be a matter of time before he hit the floor. His body was flooded with warmth and all the thoughts in his mind began to slowly whisk away. Even so, he realized that he had probably been drugged, but he didn't care. He was so warm, why care? He could forget and everything would be okay. Finally, he drifted into a dreamless heavy sleep.

-(Next day)-

Kyouya marveled at the nearly empty corridor of Ouran as he walked briskly to his next class. He had managed to avoid Tamaki for a good portion of the day, and therefore was in a relatively good mood. The click-clacking of his heels on the tile floor was suddenly interrupted with a soft "squish." He stopped and looked down at what he had stepped on. It was Bereznoff.

The dark haired teen looked around for any figures lurking in the hallway that might have dropped him. Nekozawa-senpai and his followers were nowhere near the area.  
_  
Strange. _

Kyouya sighed and picked up the cat puppet, wondering what could have distracted Nekozawa enough to drop and forget about his beloved Bereznoff. Deep down, and perhaps against his better judgment, Kyouya knew he should take it back to the older teen. Sighing again, he put the doll in his pocket and took a detour to the Black magic club room.

When he got there, Kyouya looked up at the Black Magic club room door and couldn't help but to roll his eyes. The display of gothic architecture and purple fog rolling out from underneath the door was, at the very least, over-dramatic. He brought up his hand to knock on the dark oak and almost expected an ominous voice to whisper, "You may enter" as the doors slid open majestically.

He had no such luck though, because there wasn't even an answer when he knocked. Frowning, he slowly opened the door to reveal an almost pitch black room.

There was a lone dark blue candle in the center of the room where Nekozawa was sitting. His head was down on the ornate table and his black wig was disheveled around his face. Kyouya watched him for a moment out of curiosity. He had always marveled at the similarities between his upperclassman and Tamaki. He stepped closer, in time to see a lone tear fall down a pallid cheek. Shocked by this, Kyouya put his hand on the older boy's shoulder and shook gently. He waited until his senpai seemed aware of his surroundings to speak.

"Nekozawa-senpai."

The blonde snapped his head around, managing to shake off part of his wig. His blue eyes were wide with question.

"Ohtori-kun? What can I do for you?" He failed to notice as another tear slid down his face.

"I believe you dropped this," Kyouya held out the cat puppet.

Nekozawa immediately took Bereznoff into his arms. His face split into a wide smile, despite dampness on his cheeks.

"Thank you, Ohtori-kun."

Kyouya nodded, internally fighting a conflict. He could always ask Nekozawa why he was crying to be polite, but quite honestly, Kyouya didn't care. He looked at the blonde again who had noticed his wig was in disarray and was trying to fix it. His expression had turned into a somber one, happiness of the returned Bereznoff slipping away. Kyouya almost rolled his eyes at the display and at how similar it was to a certain other blonde. Even though Nekozawa's troubled look appeared to be sincere, unlike Tamaki's, Kyouya could tell that the blonde was waiting for him to ask what was wrong.

"Is something the matter, Nekozawa-senpai?"

He looked at up the younger teen again, eyes wide. "Why do you ask?"

Kyouya raised an eyebrow. "You're crying."

Nekozawa brought a hand up to his face and gingerly felt the aftermath of tears. He lowered his head as a scarlet blush threatened to take over his face. He was thankful for the darkness of the room.

"Here."

Nekozawa blinked as a piece of blue cloth that had the Ohtori symbol engraved on it in gold thread was shoved in front of his face. Despite himself, Nekozawa couldn't stop a cynical smile that slowly played its way to his lips.

"So what do I owe you? Ohtori-kun is never this kind to me."

He was rewarded with a smirk. "Maybe I'm in a good mood. So take it, before I change my mind."

Nekozawa took the handkerchief with a small 'thank you' deciding not to test his underclassman's patience.

"And besides..." he looked up in time to Kyouya's expression twist into the one of the true Shadow King.

"If I truly wanted you to be in my dept, you would already be there."

The last of the sentence was said in such a tone, a shiver crept up Nekozawa's spine. And true to the role of the Shadow King, Kyouya flashed his upperclassman one of his infamous smiles and headed for the opened double doors of the room. Without another word, he shut the doors behind him on the way out.

Nekozawa sighed as he heard the audible 'click' of the doors shutting and stared back at his candle.

"Protection," he whispered and scribbled words down on a small piece of paper. He then lit the paper on fire with the candle and allowed it to burn out on a ceramic dish.

"Please give me strength to protect her."

-o0o-

Later that day, Kyouya leaned into the cushion of the limo and allowed himself a split second of relaxation from the usual stressful routine of the day before sitting in his normal proper way.

"Ohtori-sama." He snapped his attention upwards towards the driver up front.

"I have orders from your father to drop you off at his office building. He wishes to speak with you."

Kyouya didn't bother to hide his slightly confused expression. It was no secret that he and his father rarely talked in person (Their lives were too busy to have any "man-to-man" talks; Kyouya had given up on that notion many years ago) and it was even rarer that he was taken to the Ohtori headquarters to speak with him.

"Did he say what for?"

The driver shook his head, "No, sir. He said that you should have an idea."

He should have an idea? That wasn't at all like his father; he wasn't the type of person to beat around the bush. Did it have something to do with his succession? For a second, Kyouya paled. It had to be something important like that. It also obviously had to be important for his father to want to see him in person.

The dark haired teen sighed, realizing what his father was playing into. He somehow knew that his father had predicted that sort of reaction. Ohtori Yoshio was an even more sadistic man than his sons. Kyouya had a feeling that his father wanted him stressed, wanted him to feel cornered. It was a good technique against proposing business men. Make them feel uncomfortable to the point they that agree with whatever you say. But why use it against him?

Kyouya adjusted his glasses and leaned back into the leather cushion once more. If it involved his succession then he would appear calm and cool as always. After all, despite who it was there was no way in hell Ohtori Kyouya would allow someone to get the upper hand on him.


	3. Change of Plans

Warning: Angst, eventual BL  
Disclaimer: I don't own Ouran.  
Authoress Note: Again, this is formerly part of chapter two, which was formerly chapter three. I'm just changing everything back to the way it was. This chapter gets the wheels of plot set in motion.

-o0o-

Kyouya opened his father's office door, not entirely sure what was going on. It irked him, not having control over the situation. That's how a lot of things were when it came to Ohtori Yoshio, unfortunately. The man was more controlling than he was.

"Good, son, come in."

Yoshio beckoned Kyouya in with a wave of his hand when he had entered. He was already seated when his son came in, which was never a good sign. His hands were folded in front of him as his elbows were propped on his desk. Dark eyes peered through his glasses, watching his son's every move. Anyone would be able to see the thick atmosphere that seemed more appropriate for a CEO and his employee and not a father and son. This conversation was going to be about business.

Kyouya stood straight and looked directly at his father, a thin, polite smile slowly stretching across his lips.

"You wished to speak to me, sir?" He asked out of pure business protocol. He was growing anxious to what this conversation would involve. His succession? Something completely different?

"Yes. You are aware of our interest in the Nakamura Company, correct?"

His son gave a slight nod. "Yes, of course," he replied. Kyouya had been following the Nakamura stocks for a while now. Where was his father going with this?

"The problem is that they don't want to work with us. While their computer components would be of great use to us, they think we're too shady and underhanded to work with."

"And you would like me to change that opinion?"

Yoshio stood and handed his son a discreet black folder. "Yes. They have a daughter, your age, who is their pride and joy. Get to her father through her and convince him otherwise. "

Kyouya began to flip through the folder, taking note of some of the basic things. He glanced at her photo, something that she had obviously posed for. Her hair was done loosely in a geisha-like style with some strands of black hair falling into her face. Her full lips shined with lip gloss as they formed a pout. Her skin was fairly clear and blemish free (Though, Kyouya didn't discredit the makeup for that) but her facial features weren't outstanding, but rather average. However, it was her breasts that attracted Kyouya's attention. They were much larger than an average Japanese teenager and the deep 'V' of her shirt lured the watcher's gaze in like an arrow. He guessed she probably had breast implants. He also realized something else about her.

"She doesn't attend Ouran."

"No, she doesn't. I'll arrange a vehicle to take you to her house everyday. I've already convinced her father to allow you to court her."

Kyouya tried not to frown at the new information. He would have to visit this girl, Kameko, after school which would severely interrupt his time with the host club. He could already see the chaos that would resume in his absence.

"But sir, my relationship with Suoh-"

"Will not matter. I'm in good relations with the chairman myself, so there is no need to continue your friendship."

For one of the few times in his life, Kyouya was shocked. When had he and Tamaki's father become friends (Though, the term "friend" was probably pushing it)? If there was no need for Kyouya and Tamaki to be close, why did Yoshio continue to tolerate the Host Club? The answer wasn't that shocking; he probably tolerated it for the profits they made.

"Sir, what about the host club?"

For a second there was a flash of anger in those dark, cold eyes and for a second, Kyouya feared his father's temper. Yoshio was not always as diplomatic as he seemed. Kyouya quickly cleared his throat to cut off anything that his father was about to say.

"My apologies, sir. Of course the Host Club is out of the question," he gave a slight bow, "I'll court her as wished."

There was a moment of tense, dead silence where Yoshio seemed to look Kyouya over and a slow, gradual smirk grew on Yoshio's face. It made a small chill surge down Kyouya's body.

"Good. You are dismissed."

The youngest Ohtori bowed again, left the room and his mouth remained in a tight, thin line as he silently simmered in rage the whole ride home.

"_Damn it_!" He growled out once he was in the solitude of his bedroom. Kyouya looked around, needing something take his anger out on. He spotted a vase, picked it up, and threw it against the wall in indescribable fury.

He had been played like a fucking harp! How had he lost control of the situation like that? He could almost picture himself with strings coming out of his back and his father operating them like the sadistic bastard he was.

He took slow, deep breaths to calm his infuriation. When he had calmed down slightly, he looked at the damage he had done. The vase was his sister's, though he hardly cared, the vase was ugly anyway. He found it tacky and as it lay in shards, blood red against the pure white carpet, Kyouya felt brief, fickle satisfaction. Still, his fingers twitched with the urge to pick something else up and throw it, but he resisted the temptation. Kyouya sighed and sat down on the sofa in his room. He needed to think this situation out calmly and gave a weary glance at the pile of broken pottery. He would have to get a maid to clean that up later.

It was painfully obvious that his father was testing him.

Yoshio wanted to see what Kyouya would do with his time limited, because it wasn't just the host club he would be missing out on. When Kyouya wasn't doing school activities or with the host club, he was making deals and trading stocks. Giving a majority of his time to Kameko would seriously hinder his profits.

How was he going to cope through this? Kyouya could imagine what Tamaki's reaction would be and there would be no way he could survive the next day without punching something.

_Or a certain someone._

Kyouya needed his thoughts to be clear and anger free. Suddenly, a thought occurred to him.

He hadn't used it in a while, but if it could help take the stress away...and god knew that more stress was the thing he needed least right then.

- -o0o- -

The next day, Nekozawa sighed for probably the tenth time in the last hour. He had just had a club meeting to let his black magic followers know that their gatherings would be less due to Kirimi being in the hospital. They all gave him sympathetic glances and murmured their apologies.  
_  
'What are they sorry for?' _He had thought darkly, but smiled and said, "Thank you," anyway.

So there he sat, about a half-hour later, with fingers twitching from anxiousness. His sister was still in the hospital and school hadn't let out yet. He didn't want to go to class, because there would be no way he would be able to pay attention and while he was certainly tired enough to sleep, he just couldn't. Nekozawa was certain that if he closed his eyes again, he would have those nightmares. In his nightmares, he relived Kirimi's seizure, only it became ten times worse.

They all started out the same way, in a completely dark room. He would hear Kirimi's musical laughter before he saw her. She would look up with her round, big, blue eyes and ask, "What's wrong big brother?"

Before he could answer, "Nothing," she would tense and fall to the ground, her eyes no longer innocent and questioning, but blank and frightening. Then her body would start to convulse and Nekozawa wanted nothing more than to comfort her, but something was pulling him back. Blood would begin to seep out of her nose, open mouth and eyes. It would absolutely terrify Nekozawa, but he would keep trying to get to her. There would be tiny black hands all over his body, pulling him back. The little hands made of shadow were cold and piercing on his body as they continued to hold him. Voices would whisper in his ear in a sing-song, ridiculing tone, "She's dying . . . she's dying . . ." and eventually the little shadows would cover his mouth, then eyes and block the scene from him completely before choking him.

Nekozawa would wake up each time on the verge of screaming. It was far too much for him.

He sighed again. He was now too afraid to fall asleep, but too tired to continue to stay up like this. His eyelids were drooping and restlessness was pouring throughout his body. Nekozawa had put his head on the wooden table when soft music floated to his ears. First, he cast it off as being tired and simply hearing things, but he began to grow curious when the music didn't stop.

Something about the music aroused his senses. It was violin and contained the smooth sound that the violin normally produced, but the tone it created was somehow angry even if the song itself wasn't. Nekozawa didn't recognize who might have written it, but the song itself had such an underlying feeling of rage, he could only wonder who was playing it.

The song grew louder and now more robust with emotion. It made Nekozawa's heart beat faster and he was filled with an overwhelming sensation that he couldn't describe.

He had to see who was playing and as he turned to the direction of the music, he was shocked to find it coming from the host club room. After standing, Nekozawa went over to the door and gingerly poked his head inside and found himself amazed. The song continued to captivate Nekozawa's senses, but it was the player that truly mesmerized him.

Kyouya's eyes were closed in deep concentration as he guided the bow of his instrument up and down the strings. His lips were open and moved as though silently singing to the tune of his song. Kyouya's body moved slightly in rhythm, seemingly unaware of anything outside of the melody.

Nekozawa could only stare at the scene before him. He had never seen his underclassman in such a relaxed state, with his normally perfectly planned hair falling whichever way in his face. His arm muscles tensed as he drew the hair of the bow over quicker than before and sweat trickled down Kyouya's temples as the song grew heavier and closer to its climax. Suddenly the music came in abrupt, intense sounds before eventually slowing down to a remorseful yet satisfying ending.

It took Nekozawa's breath away.

_'Beautiful…' _he thought, unsure whether it was directed towards the song or the violinist.

Kyouya slowly opened his eyes with a slight smile and Nekozawa was shocked to find as much emotion as he did in those pools of grey. That is, until the host spotted Nekozawa's hooded form in the doorway and the smile immediately disappeared. Kyouya straightened up and returned to his usual cold business appearance.

"Ohtori-kun... you play very well."

Kyouya tensed.

"I don't recall asking for your opinion," he stated stiffly before putting his instrument back in its case. Nekozawa felt the sting of the comment and nodded somberly. He knew that his presence wasn't wanted.

"Very well," he began to turn around and halted before he closed the door.

"I'd love to know the composer though," he paused, "because it was quite beautiful."

And with that, Nekozawa closed the door to the third music room. On both sides of the door, both males sighed. On one side, a boy whose sister was ill and therefore felt weak in the fact there was nothing he could do to help her. On the other side, a boy whose drive to become successful was taking him away from the people he actually cared for. Their own little worlds were light years apart and their problems seemed so different, yet, as a single wall separated them, the clutch of loneliness in both of their hearts was simply identical.

-o0o-


	4. Visiting Day

Warning: Angst. An OC. That's really it.

Disclaimer: Don't own Ouran. Nope.

Authoress Note: This chapter could have been longer, but I didn't want to have to write more of Kameko than I needed to. (You'll notice that she has about three lines of actual dialogue.) This was read over really sloppily, so if you see mistakes, please point them out so I can change it. Sorry about the long wait and lack of length.

Enjoy.

-o0o-

By the end of the day, both boys were distraught over their destinations, one more so than the other. Kyouya did _not _enjoy breaking the news of his departure to his best friend. Tamaki had whined and pleaded with Kyouya, but the brunet simply told him it had to do with his father and the blonde had shut up.

Nekozawa, however, was visiting Kirimi and had dreaded it as much as he anticipated it. As much as he wanted to visit his sister, his nightmare plagued his thoughts. Was it an omen or was it his imagination getting the better of him? Either way, a sick feeling crept into his stomach as he we walked through the brightly lit hallways of the hospital. He didn't fit in there, he knew. Nekozawa's black cloak was a startling contrast to the perfectly white, sterile walls of the building. The smell of antiseptic fluid made his stomach churn more than it already did and the bright light gave him a headache. But he would endure this, though. He had to, for Kirimi.

Nekozawa could feel the burning stares of strangers that passed him. He was used to those looks; it was why Nekozawa hated public places. He knew what they were thinking. It was the same thing his classmates thought as he walked by them: _What a freak._

When he reached her floor, he was met with her nurse, paid for by his family of course, and was led to his sister's room.

The nurse was kind enough, he supposed. But her smiles of reassurance never reached her eyes and the more cynical part of him wondered if she was just being friendly because she was getting paid. Nekozawa almost let a morbid comment through, but he stopped himself. Here, he was supposed to be Nekozawa Umehito, the older brother of Kirimi, not the president of the Black Magic Club. He could at least pretend to be normal, even if his outward appearance wasn't.

"Here we are, Nekozawa-san."

They had stopped in front of Kirmi's door. He paled when he spotted a sign on the door titled, "Contact Precaution" and the nurse handed him a pair of latex gloves.

"Just to be careful," she stated quickly, noticing his distressed look. She gave him a smile that Nekozawa assumed was supposed to be reassuring. He put on the gloves.

"Her doctor should be here in a moment," she said and left him at the door.

He sighed and went in, unsure what to prepare himself for. The room was a lot nicer than he had expected, being a suit hospital room, but that didn't deter from the fact that he was still in a hospital.

Kirmi's bed looked lonely in the center of the spacious room. It somehow made her body appear smaller, like eventually she would just whisk away into nothing. Kirimi also seemed paler than the last time Nekozawa saw her. Her already pallid skin was almost porcelain now, with the exception of a faint blush that painted her cheeks. The girl's eyes were closed, but her face was contorted into an expression of pain.

Nekozawa felt the sharp jab his heart took as he looked over her. He hoped it was only a dream, a nightmare she was suffering from, because he couldn't bear to learn that even though he was right there, there was nothing he could do to protect Kirimi from being hurt. He hoped they didn't share the same nightmare, at least. Nekozawa reached down to brush away one of her sweat-licked bangs and froze from the contact of the latex glove. Protect her? He couldn't even _touch_ her.

"You're Nekozawa-san, correct?"

The mentioned jumped (he seemed to be doing that a lot lately) and spun around. He was met with the image of a young male, perhaps in his late twenties with neatly cut auburn hair and glasses. He wore the stereotypical lab coat of doctors, so Nekozawa assumed that the male was the doctor the nurse spoke of.

"Yes..."

The doctor gave Nekozawa a brief, curious glance before bowing politely.

"I'm Kirimi's pediatrician, Yamamoto Ichiro. I'm assuming you want to know what's wrong with your sister, is that correct?"

"Yes," Nekozawa wasn't sure whether or not he truly did. He watched as the doctor looked at the chart on Kirimi's bed and checked something off.

"Well, your sister here has a case of viral meningitis. While it is a little more severe of a case than usual, your sister is going to be fine. We're making sure appropriate measures are done to reduce her fever, give her an appropriate amount of fluids and prevent her seizures, so there will be little follow up visits as possible."

Nekozawa let out the breath he never knew he was holding. His heart felt about ten times lighter. His sister was going to be okay.

Then a thought occurred to him, "How long is she going to be here?"

The doctor checked off another thing on the clipboard, "If everything runs smoothly, no more than three weeks. Now I have a few questions to ask you, if you don't mind."

Nekozawa shook his head and proceeded to answer the questions that his parents weren't there to receive.

-o0o-

There were many things that Kyouya would rather being doing at the moment and meeting Kameko was not one of them. You could say that Kyouya was not a happy camper. He honestly would have preferred to be at the host club, listening to Tamaki ramble than play "boyfriend" to some girl who probably had the personality of a rock.

His mind began to wander to the events that had happened at school. Like him playing violin and Nekozawa seeing it. Kyouya would have to make sure the blonde didn't let it be known that he could play the instrument. The melancholic, beautiful songs that he played and wrote were such a contrast to the Shadow King, people would never take it seriously, especially not his family. The only reason Kyouya had started to play the violin in the first place was because he heard that an instrument was great stress release.

He had picked it up quickly, and Kyouya learned that feeling the bow move underneath his fingers was so much easier than feeling the ache in his chest for being unable to cry, because he was an Ohtori and Ohtori's were too strong to cry. For a brief period of time he could always forget about his distress and play his emotions out on the strings.

"Kyouya-sama, we're here."

"Thank you," he answered stiffly, getting out of the vehicle, picking up the bouquet of roses he had his driver bring, and not even waiting for the driver to open the door for him.

Taking a deep breath, he walked up the granite steps to the excessively rich styled Nakamura mansion.

_Ding-dong_.

In a couple of seconds, the door opened to reveal a very meek-looking servant. She looked up at Kyouya and took in the sight of him and his bouquet before bowing.

"You must be Ohtori-sama. Please, come in."

She ushered the boy in with another bow and once he was in, said that Kameko would be with him in a moment and he could wait in the in the living room.

Sitting down, he scanned the equally excessively rich room. The red, gold, and tan color scheme and the over-abundant amount of furniture did nothing to help this image. So the Nakamura's liked to show off their wealth? He put this information in the back of his mind where it could possibly be used for later.

Kyouya glanced at his watch impatiently, already deciding that Kameko wasn't worth waiting for. He wasn't in the greatest of moods and all this absurd meeting was doing was wasting his time and Kyouya's time was definitely worth money.

"Ohtori-san?"

Speak of the devil.

Kyouya stood with a fake smile on his lips and took in the sight of Kameko. The difference in seeing her physical appearance in person compared to a picture was startling.

She was pretty tall for a girl. Her head reached just above Kyouya's nose, making her only a few inches shorter than Kyouya's 5'11. Her bust size was also pretty large and with her thin waist and incredibly long legs, she made the perfect Barbie. All she needed was the blonde hair. She was still in her school uniform, as was he, but Kyouya could tell that her skirt was either altered or hiked up. He was seeing a lot more thigh than he really needed or _wanted_ to.

Her raven hair was pulled into a loose pony-tail with her bangs hanging over cobalt eyes that lit up at the sight of roses. Kyouya stepped forward and took her hand in his, placing a slight kiss overtop of it.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Nakamura-chan," he lied through his teeth and handed her the bouquet.

She buried her face in the flowers to smell them and smiled. "These are so sweet, thank you."

He smiled back, calculations of Kameko's character already coming forth.

"You're quite welcome. If it means seeing your smile, I'll bring one hundred roses."

Kyouya could have gagged on the syrupy crap he was feeding her, but she bought it. A light blush spread over her cheeks and she looked down at the bouquet.

"I'll give these to a servant to put in a vase and then we can go to my room. You can follow me."

The full suggestiveness of her statement was not lost on Kyouya. Someone was certainly forward.

Kameko spun around and Kyouya saw pink. It took his mind a moment to register just exactly what the flicker of pink he saw was, but when it did, he could just feel himself sifting into the lower bowels of Hell. He had just been flashed. Dear God, what had he done to _deserve_ this?

With an inaudible sigh, he followed the girl because being the third son meant that he had no choice.

-o0o-


	5. Musical Meanings

Warning: Mild BL  
Disclaimer: I don't own Ouran.  
Authoress Note: I'd like to thank soofichan for mentioning that song. Honestly, I had no clue what I wanted Kyouya to play in this chapter. You get a virtual cookie from me. xD  
I don't want to spoil too much, but this chapter is really important and pretty long compared to my other stuff. Beta'd by the wonderful irk3n - e l i t e from Gaia. I luff you. :3

-o0o-

Nekozawa really had no clue what he was doing, lurking in the door of the third music room, listening to Kyouya play again. He knew that if he was caught, he would probably be lashed out at again, but his need to hear the music was so great that he didn't care. He actually recognized the piece this time, Chopin's Nocturne for Violin, one of his favorites. It had a sort of fantastic sadness that drew Nekozawa's attention quicker than Kyouya drew his bow over the strings. The song made his heart beat faster with astonishment and an aching feeling of loneliness washed over his body. Boldly, Nekozawa stepped forward, not even caring about being seen. All he cared about was hearing the music and seeing the magnificent creature that was playing the music beautifully so.

Kyouya looked up, but surprisingly didn't stop when he saw the blonde enter. Nekozawa, encouraged by this, swallowed and took another step forward.

Kyouya still didn't stop.

Brazen with confidence, Nekozawa continued to approach the younger boy, unsure what he was really doing. It was like his legs were guiding him and he stopped a few feet shy of the boy. But all too quickly the song ended, leaving Nekozawa as breathless as he was the first time he heard the Ohtori play. Kyouya let the instrument go limp in his hands and raised an eyebrow at Nekozawa's presence.

"Senpai, is there any reason you're in here?" The slightly cold undertone caught Umehito off guard.

"I-I wanted to hear you play. I apologize for interrupting you." Nekozawa cursed himself for stuttering. Even if most people were afraid of him, he couldn't help but to be a little intimidated by the youngest Ohtori. But only a little. Having put his instrument down, Kyouya crossed his arms and advanced towards the older teen.

"No," He adjusted his glasses and Nekozawa realized that he had backed away from the other boy, a little too late, as his back roughly hit the opposing wall.

"Why are you _in _here?" Kyouya pointed at the ground for emphasis, "You can hear me playing perfectly fine in your own club room."

Nekozawa found himself at a loss for words. Why _did _he come into the club room? As Kyouya said, he could just listen to him play, but he found himself needing more.  
The beautiful music wouldn't be as nearly as captivating without the brunet playing it. For some reason, he needed to see as well.

Kyouya seemed to sense what the false-brunet was thinking and moved closer with his hand on the wall beside Nekozawa's head.

"You're thinking about me." It wasn't a question in the least bit and Nekozawa found his throat becoming suddenly dry. He swallowed and realized that Kyouya was about an inch taller than he was. Nekozawa blinked. He had no clue where that observation came from.

The blonde blushed when he realized that he still had not answered the Ohtori's accusation and the blush deepened when he realized that he was staring at the younger male.

"No."

Even Nekozawa could tell that his flat out denial wasn't in the least bit convincing. Kyouya chuckled and moved in closer. Their chests were touching and Nekozawa was sure that the brunet could feel his heartbeat.

"You're lying," The amusement was evident in Kyouya's voice and Nekozawa knew that the younger teen was getting a kick out of him practically squirming beneath him.

"You're cruel," Nekozawa shot back, though he was sure that it didn't sound as brave as he intended. Kyouya pressed their hips together and Nekozawa just about lost it. His heart beat furiously in his breast, his palms were sweaty, and he was just certain that his face had the likeness of a tomato, but he felt this deliriously warm sensation oozing down his body from his chest to his toes. The feeling made Nekozawa light-headed and when Kyouya cupped his cheek a shiver crept up his spine. A ghost of a smile spread over the brunet's lips.

"I know."

Their mouths met.

It was amazing. Electricity jolted down Nekozawa's body and when Kyouya's tongue brushed against the crevice of his lips, the blonde practically turned to mush in the other boy's arms.  
Nekozawa groaned.  
_  
Beep-beep. Beep-beep. Beep-beep. _

He wished he could stay there forever.  
_  
Beep-beep. Beep-beep. Beep-beep. _

Nekozawa opened his eyes and immediately regretted doing so. He was _not _in the third music room, being pinned against the wall by the youngest Ohtori, having his mouth ravished.  
Instead, he was in his bedroom, beat-faced from the startling dream and his heart beating furiously in his chest.

Nekozawa rubbed his eyes and hopefully the blush off of his face. He had dreamt that he made out with his underclassman. His very _male_ underclassman. Surely the forces of the universe were up to screwing with him this week. He groaned into his hands and sent a withering look towards his alarm clock, the device responsible for waking him up from the pleasant dream.

. . . _Pleasant?  
_  
Even though Nekozawa's dream self seemed to certainly enjoy Kyouya's lips on his, there was no way that the blonde found that dream to be pleasant. Not at all.

With a solid resolve, Nekozawa looked at his alarm clock again, which in glaringly bright letters said that it was six 'o clock. Far too early for any decent being to be up and about, but Nekozawa supposed that his exhaustion was his own fault. He was up past midnight sketching, or at least attempting to. After his visit with Kirimi, he needed something to keep his mind off of her sickly body in that hospital bed, looking so small and so fading. Even if the doctor told him that she was going to be fine, he couldn't stop the worries of her ailment from slipping into his mind and doing demonic things.

So to help clear his mind, Nekozawa brought out his sketch book, something he hadn't done since the night of Kirimi's seizure. But nothing had come to him. He had sat, for quite some time, slightly intimidated by the blank page with the minutes ticking by. His muses were failing him. So all in all, Nekozawa had only gotten about four hours of sleep and a vague silhouette as the product of it all. Plus, he had had that haunting, yes haunting not _pleasant_, dream which he was sure would be plaguing him all day.

Certainly the forces of the universe were having fun screwing with him.

With a sigh, Nekozawa got out of the bed and found his way through the darkness to light the candles on his candelabrum and went the bathroom that adjoined his bedroom.  
He hissed lightly when his bare feet hit the cold tile and he set the candelabrum down. The light was bright enough that he could see his reflection in the large mirror that stood over the counter.

He sighed again at his appearance. Nekozawa's blonde hair was in disarray, sticking up at odd angles because of how he slept. His blue eyes had the far off gaze of not being fully awake as well as bags underneath them from lack of sleep. He looked nothing like the prince character Kirimi wanted him to be. Even though the host club had amended his relationship with the girl, he knew that she was still slightly upset not to have a prince for a brother. What little girl wouldn't be?

Nekozawa sighed and splashed cold water in his face. He couldn't stand the person staring back at him. The person that was so frightened and so lonely all of the time. Even without the wig and the cloak, a prince he was far from being. His eyes held etchings of deep sadness, the type that lodged itself into the human soul caused by the lack of companionship or friendship.

Companionship? He was eighteen and still hadn't had a date. Companionship wasn't something that he hoped for.

Tired of focusing on his physical appearance and feeling sorry for himself, he stripped off his boxers and stepped into his shower. In a few moments, the steamy water was running over Nekozawa's body, drenching his hair and making it stick to his face. He began to feel his muscles relax under the pounding streams of water and resisted the urge to sigh. He had been sighing a lot lately and he idly wondered if this whole ordeal was making him depressed again. Or more depressed than usual, rather. Having someone to confide in would be nice, he supposed and immediately his brain supplied him with images of his dream.

_'No!' _he thought and immediately shooed the images away.

Just because he had had a dream about him and respected him as a violinist, did not mean that he would confide in Ohtori-kun anytime soon. Certainly not.

Just as Nekozawa ran his fingers through drenched blonde hair, he began to notice a familiar, pleasant, tingling feeling below his gut. Having thoughts of the dream and Kyouya's hips pinned against his made the feeling grow tenfold and Nekozawa realized that he hadn't ... _indulged_ in himself in a while. Having the dream must have sparked up his hormones, because Nekozawa knew that if he didn't take care of the problem then, he might have to face a very...difficult time at school.

Oh, it was going to be a _long _day.

-o0o-

True to the thought, the day was half-way over and Nekozawa was ready to bang his head against a wall. At least Bereznoff seemed to understand the pain that he was going through. The dream was plaguing him, just as he thought it would, and it was definitely distracting. One certain part seemed to be playing over and over again on a Hi-def screen in his mind.

"_Why are you _in _here?" Kyouya pointed at the ground for emphasis. "You could hear me playing perfectly fine in your own club room." _

And it alluded to the day before. Why did Nekozawa linger in the host club door when he first heard Kyouya play? He originally only went to see who was playing, but with his curiosity sated, why did he stay? Why was he so enraptured with Kyouya playing? Why did looking at the boy make him feel breathless?

_Because he's as beautiful as his music.  
_  
Nekozawa shook the thoughts out of his head. He decided that he was simply tired and that his mind didn't need to think about that right then.

He twisted the golden handle on the side entrance to the second auditorium. He was skipping again and didn't want to venture to his own club room. There was always the slight chance that he would run into Kyouya and he didn't want to take it. Nekozawa liked the second auditorium because during the middle of the day, it was rarely used and its dim house lights made the perfect environment for him.

When he pushed open the door, there were a few things he noticed. One of them was that there was a bright light sitting in one of the seats. No...it was a laptop screen, with a person obviously holding it. The person looked up when the side door closed and Nekozawa noticed that the person was wearing glasses.

Oh, God, was Ohtori-kun.

Nekozawa almost turned right around and left, but his underclassman had spotted him and even Nekozawa, who was considered socially inept among his peers, realized how rude that would have been.

So with palms growing sweaty, his face a furious red, and a book in hand, Nekozawa sat down a distance away from the brunet. With trembling hands, he opened his book, able to see the print because of long years spent in the dark.

The silence was unnerving.

Nekozawa just knew that Kyouya was staring at him and could read his thoughts. He shouldn't have come to the auditorium. At least it was dark enough that Kyouya couldn't see the blush on his face (again). And when Kyouya spoke, Nekozawa almost yelped, startled.

"We seem to be meeting each other a lot lately. You would think it was on purpose."

Nekozawa's eyes widened at the implication and decided that, yes, Kyouya was still mad at him.

"No, it isn't on purpose..." then suddenly, Nekozawa grinned, holding up Bereznoff, "or perhaps it was fated by the stars that we—"

"I'm glad you're feeling better," Kyouya cut in, giving Nekozawa a flat look.

"Oh. Thank you."

Color once again rose to his cheeks. He had forgotten about that, the other day when he was skipping because he was so depressed and Kyouya had seen him crying. Which reminded him, why was Ohtori-kun in the auditorium in the middle of class?

"Ohtori-kun, why are you in here? Aren't you skipping?"

"Aren't you?"

"Yes, but my family doesn't care if I—"

Nekozawa cut himself off when Kyouya looked up and he suddenly felt the atmosphere change. It grew darker and the blonde shifted uncomfortably under his underclassman's gaze.

"Continue."

"No, it's nothing," he looked down at his lap and fumbled with the pages of his book. Kyouya smirked slightly and turned back to his screen.

"Anyway, to answer your question, I am skipping. I have a deal with my teacher that as long as I get my class and homework done, I don't have to arrive to class. We're covering subject matter that I already know, anyway."

Nekozawa sweat-dropped. He should have known it had to be something like that.

But somehow, Kyouya's calculating demeanor wasn't as frightening as it was before. Earlier, Nekozawa saw him as the cold shadow demon, but now he knew that Kyouya had a heart, one that he poured into his music. It was quite startling, actually, for Nekozawa to realize that the cold, granite-like creature sitting across from him had such a heart. He had to, to be able to play as passionately as he was in the third music room.

_'That's why…that's why he was so upset to see me watching him,' _Nekozawa thought elated with hints of sorrow lingering in.

Ohtori Kyouya was a very proud person and thrived on being known as heartless. He most likely hadn't let anyone know that he could play violin because it would certainly shatter that image. Which meant that Nekozawa was one the first people to ever see that side of Kyouya. He was the first to see the mask taken off and those beautiful grey eyes swimming with emotion. He was the first to see everything his underclassman held in, poured out into such raw and captivating music.

No wonder Kyouya was being so cold to his upperclassman. Nekozawa understood. He understood and was very sorry that he had walked in on Kyouya. To have something like that exposed to a stranger? Nekozawa knew it must have torn the brunet apart.

"I apologize, Ohtori-kun," Nekozawa said softly, setting his book aside.

Kyouya seemed to sense this and looked up, "What for?"

"For intruding on you yesterday. It was rude and I understand how it must make you feel."

"You understand?" The outright disbelief was barely concealed in the question.

"Yes. I understand what it's like to have something precious to you like that and…then have it taken away," Nekozawa tried to smile, despite it all, but it turned bitter and dark.

"And what is your precious thing? If you don't mind me asking."

"My sister Kirimi...last weekend she became ill and-and she suffered a seizure," And before Nekozawa knew it, words began to tumble out. Like a dam over-abundant with water, he couldn't keep it in. It was swelling, then bursting out, unclenching his chest and drawing tears down his cheeks.

He ended up telling Kyouya about everything. About how at first he thought Kirimi was dead and how frightened he was. About the nightmares he was suffering from. About how upset he was to have seen Kirimi's body so still and lonely in her hospital bed and how he felt so useless and so sorry for her because he was the only person to have visited her. Their parents were in a different country on business and couldn't be bothered to come back and, while he was used to being generally uncared for, she deserved so much better than that.

The whole time Nekozawa let this all out, Kyouya listened to it patiently to the very end and by that time Nekozawa realized that tears were steadily flowing down his cheeks.

"This is the second time this week Ohtori-kun has seen me cry. I certainly hope this isn't becoming habit," he let out a bitter laugh and wiped the tears away and waited for the "I'm sorry," that was sure to come.

"I hope Nekozawa-senpai makes it through everything alright," Kyouya said after a moment of silence, unable to find words to comfort the male. He could feel his throat becoming a little tight, which was preposterous. He shouldn't, _couldn't, _be feeling moved over what Nekozawa had told him. Of course he held sympathy for the older male and his sister, especially his sister because he knew what it was like to not have your family care, but it shouldn't have made his chest ache, pounding with some strange. It shouldn't have made him _feel. _

"Thank you," Nekozawa answered, surprised and somewhat grateful over the statement. He could tell that Kyouya was being sincere, which honestly wasn't one of the boy's outstanding qualities. He was especially appreciative that the male didn't apologize. Nekozawa had had enough apologies from people who didn't care or just couldn't comprehend what he was going through. It was remarkable that the first person who did was the cold shadow king that was Ohtori Kyouya.

But the moment of them completely understanding the other, of their souls acting like beacons toward each other ended abruptly as Kyouya slipped the mask back on. Nekozawa was shut out of the passage way as the door slammed shut in his face and Kyouya straightened up to his normal intimidating business posture.

It saddened Nekozawa greatly to sense this happening to the other male. It was like discovering a mythical creature, illuminated in a patch of moonlight and as soon as a cloud covered the landscape, the creature was gone. What he would give to see Kyouya play violin again and have that creature appear.

"It would be wise if you didn't let anyone know of my musical abilities."

Just as the brunet said this, the bell for the next period chimed, shocking the blonde. The period was over already? He must have spent more time talking than he realized. Part of him still couldn't believe that he had told so much to his underclassman, but something Kyouya's presence comforted the blonde. Unfazed by Kyouya's frigid tone, Nekozawa nodded.

"Of course. I will keep Ohtori-kun's secret." And that was the truth.

"Thank you for listening to me."

With that said, Nekozawa picked up his book, which lay forgotten beside him and left the second auditorium with Kyouya staring after him.

A soft smile graced Kyouya's lips as he turned back to his computer screen. Almost immediately he made an order for Peonies to be sent to Nekozawa Kirimi's hospital room with a special note attached. The blonde was right; she at least deserved that much.

Feeling good about his decision on the flowers, he shut off the laptop. Still there was a nagging feeling in the back of his mind over his conversation with Nekozawa.

He knew that the older male wouldn't tell, but there was still that uncertain anxious feeling in his chest over what Nekozawa told him. Was he really that sympathetic towards him? Why did the image of the blonde crying make this feeling grow and why did Kyouya care? It wasn't as if he felt anything more than sympathy towards the darkness-loving blonde. Nekozawa was lucky to receive that.

_Why did he care at all? _

It was completely illogical for Kyouya to feel this, all of a sudden. It was completely illogical for him to _feel. _

He tried to ignore the whispers his heart spoke to him and gathered up all of his stuff. He didn't need to worry about this. He didn't need to worry about that boy that was so much like him in his loneliness. He didn't need to worry about that boy who saw him without the mask on and stared in awe and not revulsion. He didn't need to worry because his only concern should have been making Kameko happy and advancing his family's company.

A sad smile made its way to his lips as he stared at the exit that Nekozawa left out of. His only concern should have been a lot of things and yet, deep down in his heart, Kyouya knew that his concern lay with the boy he told himself he shouldn't worry over.

-o0o-


	6. Different

Warnings: OC  
Disclaimer: I don't own Ouran.  
**Authoress Note** **(Please read.): **Before we start, I would like to apologize personally for the monstrosity you are about to read. Partially because it has a lot of my OC in it, and partially because I find it just so God-awful. I don't know what happened. Really. I think this is just proof that I shouldn't write when I'm in a dry-spell.

Anyway.

This has a lot of my OC, Kameko in it. I know that nobody likes her and I know that people are generally against OCxHost, no matter how one-sided it may be, but she is necessary. I mean seriously necessary. Much, much later on she plays a huge positive role in Nekozawa and Kyouya's relationship and I'm sure everyone won't dislike her nearly as much then. But there is foreshadowing needed to be done for any of that much later on to make sense.

Also, this chapter was intended to be much longer, but it would have been too much to shove it all into one chapter. It's crappy enough as it is. So the fluffy, magical, fanservice scene that was supposed to happen this chapter will happen the next.

And one more thing. I will be very busy this semester. I have a class that requires an essay every week. Joy. So I won't be writing this as often. (Also I have a bunch of one-shots I need to get out of the way.) So y'all may not hear from me nearly as much. So, uh, cross your fingers and hope for the best?

I need a vacation. D:  
Un-beta'd.

-o0o-

Kyouya had known since the age of eight that he was gay. Of course then, with the only innocence he had left, he didn't know what it was called and of the afflictions that went with it and simply realized that he liked boys.

Since the time of that realization, Kyouya, older and quite understanding of what being gay meant, thanked the heavens that he was never one to reveal information about himself, even as a child. He also thanked the heavens that the only person he trusted enough in his family to confide in was his sister, Fuyumi. Because when he was eight, he started to notice that boys in his class would pick on girls for most of the year and then give the girls gifts of affection on White Day.

Kyouya did not pick on girls, though his peers wrote it off due to his maturity and Kyouya certainly did not want to give any girls gifts on White Day, but that was ignored due to his general coldness. But that wasn't the reason he why Kyouya didn't give anyone presents on White Day (despite the number he always received on Valentine's Day).

He didn't, because the only person he wanted to give a present to was another boy, but he realized that boys did not give other boys White Day presents. And even at a young age, Kyouya realized that being different wasn't always a good thing and was generally hated more than it was accepted. Faced with this dilemma, he went to his older sister, perplexed and unknowingly naïve.

Her initial silence was not a good sign, he decided. He could practically see the wheels turning in her head as though trying to think of a way to not break this eight-year-old's heart but explain to him what he needed to hear.

"Kyou-kun," it had been a while since she had last called him that, "I'm going to be very frank with you. I need you to promise to not tell that to anyone, especially not in this family."

"Why?" He had asked.

She sighed and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. "Because while there's nothing wrong with it, most boys don't like other boys and people don't always accept what is different."

That's what he was. He was different. Marked. Imperfect. A huge stain on his family's portrait.

"I understand."

Looking back, Kyouya realized that he should have thanked his sister. If Kyouya hadn't told her, he might have confronted the problem and been faced with certain humiliation. Then his family would have found out and any chances he had of obtaining his father's company would have shot out of the window.

Kyouya was also thankful that all he felt for that boy was a simple crush. A crush that he could get over, a crush that he could forget. But that memory would always be in his mind as a reminder of who he was and what he couldn't have. So Kyouya didn't allow himself to fall in love. He had crushes, crushes that he could get over and forget. He was realistic enough to know that he would never fall in love with the man of his dreams and then spend the rest of his life with him. No, love wasn't practical.

More realistically, Kyouya would marry a respectable, equally wealthy woman that would help advance their company and would have kids to carry on the Ohtori line. Love wasn't needed.

Crushes were convenient to Kyouya. They allowed him to recognize that he felt _something_ for someone, but he could write it off due to hormones. He could get over it, he could forget. That was his philosophy.

So when Kyouya first felt the fluttering of something growing in his chest in the auditorium, it astonished him. Even if he felt the _rare _crush every now and then, being attracted to Nekozawa was a bit of a stretch. Sure the blonde was pretty, very pretty, even Kyouya couldn't deny that, but it was _Nekozawa_. The boy worshipped cats and probably belonged to a cult.

Kyouya sighed. He never claimed his hormones to be logical.  
_  
He could get over it, he could forget. _

"Ohtori-kun, are you alright?"

Kyouya snapped out of his daydream and pulled back into the glaring lights of reality. He almost frowned when he heard that Kameko had downgraded on his honorific after knowing him for only one day, but kept up his usual placid smile.

"I'm fine. Just daydreaming a bit."

The girl nodded and went back to her paper.

Kyouya was currently in Kameko's room studying with her. Or rather, she was doing homework while Kyouya tried to pretend that he wasn't there. It was becoming increasingly difficult.

Like every stereotypical teenage girl's room, everything was a bright pink and cute. Complete with posters of some j-rock groups and an armada of stuffed animals sitting a few feet away from him, staring at him with their lifeless glassy eyes. It unnerved him.

Kameko herself was sprawled over her bed with a text book and other essential homework items. She seemed to be ignoring Kyouya for the most part, which he was certain wasn't entirely true. Every time she was sure he was looking, she would stretch or grab for something, causing the large t-shirt she wore that pooled around her mid-thigh, to rise up and Kyouya would see more skin and the tip of the shorts she wore underneath. And Kyouya might have fallen for it if his IQ was substantially less and if he were straight. He rose off of her bed and wandered over to her book case.

He should have been in the host club then, which was at least twenty times more fascinating than his current situation. His fingers itched with the urge to pick up a writing utensil and document and calculate something. But he had left his notebook behind out of common courtesy and arrived on Kameko's door step with only a gift in hand.

He looked over the items on the shelf. They were mostly teen magazines and romance novels, not that Kyouya expected any different. He had to admit, though. Out of all the people he was forced to court or befriend via orders from his father (Kameko certainly wasn't the first one), he had never met someone who was upper-class and was quite so...forward. Most girls were either the shy fangirls he catered to from the host club or spoiled princesses and neither of them would have dared to do something as scandalous as show skin.

He could feel Kameko's gaze on his back, probably upset that showing skin didn't seem to affect him. He supposed he should probably humor her considering that his father expected for him to get her family to like him.

It didn't matter, he decided. He would work his way through her family in due time. Plus, the fact that Kameko was flirting with him meant that she at least liked him. Anyway, there was a large chance that she would call him over soon anyway.

"Ohtori-kun?"

Right on cue.

He turned to Kameko with a pleasant smile on his lips, "Yes?"

She sat up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Could you help me with this?" She gestured to her homework. He nodded and went over to the bed once again.

"What do you need help with?"

She indicated towards a worksheet of translating English texts into Japanese, "I can't get this last sentence."

He leaned over to examine it and Kameko did the same, wrapping her arm around his lower back. He translated the text in his mind and fought the urge to tell her to get off. Even if he was supposed to be courting her, that didn't mean he had to like the sudden familiarity she was forcing on him. It went against every principal that the Ohtori family drilled into him.

"I see what you're having trouble with. This can also mean 'light'."

She stared at the page, a look of elated understanding donning over her expression.

"Thank you, Ohtori-kun," She chirped and solved the rest of the passage while still keeping her arm around the male.

"Say, Ohtori-kun, I've been thinking..."

Kyouya turned to her with what could have been a bemused smirk, carefully masked with polite inquiry. "Yes?"

"I was thinking that we should get to know each other in public."

"You mean as in a date?"

Kameko nodded enthusiastically, "Yeah!"

She moved closer and wrapped her other arm around his torso. "Because it can't seem too proper for me to only take you to my room when you visit. People might think that I'm loose."

Kyouya mentally rolled his eyes. He couldn't imagine where someone might have gotten that idea. Especially since she paraded around in clothing that an exhibitionist might wear.

"Why would anyone think that? You're perfect."

She smiled self-adoringly and positioned herself so that she was straddling the Ohtori's lap.

"You're too sweet to me Ohtori-kun," she sighed and buried her head into the crook of his neck. Kyouya frowned and hesitantly brought his hand up to stroke her hair, feeling quite uncomfortable. He hadn't expected her to go to _that_ level of physical contact and it wasn't like he could push her off. Kameko had free reign over what she wanted to do to him and the thought almost made him shudder. He hoped that she wasn't as loose as her clothing implied.

"Where did you have in mind?"

She looked up, "Hmm? Oh, our date…I was thinking that we could go to dinner and a play."

That was…unexpected.

"That sounds perfect," he forced a smile, "did you have a certain play or restaurant in mind or would you like me to arrange everything?"

She shook her head, "No. Surprise me."

Great. More for him to do. A date anytime soon was going to seriously hinder his time. He was going to have to skip again. He tuned back in when the girl started talking.

". . . and you're welcome to dinner here anytime you'd like."

That actually interested him. If her father was present, then he could show him what a perfect boyfriend he was and possibly discuss business.

"I would like that. Thank you, Nakamura-chan." She seemed pleased with herself.

"Hey, Ohtori-kun . . .?" She pressed herself even tighter against him and Kyouya resisted the urge to squirm at the even more intimate contact. He could feel her breasts against his chest and her bare legs were wrapped his waist. He was admittedly quite out of his comfort zone. He felt awkward to say the least. Kameko's sapphire eyes seemed full of worry, but at the same time judging his reaction.

"Yes?"

"You like me, right?"

Where did _that_ come from? He smiled and brushed a strand of hair away from her face. "Yes, of course."

_"Good."_

Kameko pulled his head down towards hers and their lips connected. He stiffened at first, out of shock, but relaxed and without nearly as much enthusiasm, he kissed her back. He felt nothing other than slight disgust at the overwhelming taste of bubblegum. It just further fueled his knowledge that he wasn't attracted to her or any other female, because he was different, marked, and imperfect. And being with Kameko was helping to erase the stain that he was.

He gripped her hips, but let go when she suddenly broke the kiss. She titled her head to the side, questioningly, and without a word, got off of his lap.

Kyouya kept his mask in place, but was, well, _shocked_ to say the least. To say the action was random would be an understatement and then Kameko had gotten off of him like nothing happened. While he continued to process this information, he didn't notice Kameko's tiny smirk eerily reminiscent of his own.

-o0o-

The first thing Nekozawa noticed when he entered his sister's hospital room was the generous bouquet of pink flowers sitting on a table next to Kirimi's bed. The second thing he noticed was that his sister was awake.

Her face was still flushed with fever and her eyes seemed glazed and unfocused, but joy still bubbled up from his stomach. He promptly forgot about the flowers and rushed over to her.

"Kirimi!"

She turned towards him, recognition slowly forming over her features. "Nii-sama?"

He could have cried right there, so happy to hear his baby sister's voice again. "Yeah, it's me. How are you feeling?"

"'M sleepy...and it hurts," she replied slowly, as though she were just waking up. Nekozawa felt his heart pang.

"Where does it hurt at?"

"My head."

He smiled bravely to reassure her and pressed Bereznoff against her forehead.

"Don't worry. Bereznoff will protect you against any pain."

He wished it were true. Kirimi looked at the cat puppet and gave a tiny smile, "Thank you, Bereznoff-sama. I feel better already," she whispered as her eyelids began to droop and Nekozawa realized how tired she must be.

"Why don't you rest, Kirimi-chan? Save your energy for the next time I visit."

"Okay…" her eyes were already closed and Nekozawa caught a mumbled, "Thanks for the flowers."

It didn't take long for her to be wrapped into a deep sleep. He watched as her angelic face relaxed and once he was sure he wouldn't disturb her, he pressed a slight kiss to her forehead, not caring at all about the contact precaution. Then suddenly, he remembered the rather large bouquet of flowers that Kirimi though he gave her. Which raised the question, "Where did the flowers come from?"

Only a handful of people knew that Kirimi was in the hospital and he didn't tell his club members what hospital she was in. So that left…?

Kyouya.

Nekozawa felt his heart jump. Surely he was mistaken? He doubted that his frigid underclassmen had sent them. The false-brunet stood and went over to the table to see if the anonymous sender left a card or something. There was an envelope, in fact, marked with the Ohtori symbol. Nekozawa felt blood rush to his face and his heartbeat thundered in his ears. He was beginning to understand where girls had coined the term, "Doki-doki" from.

He picked up the envelope and with shaky fingers opened it. The letter inside read:

"Dear Nekozawa-senpai,

Since it will most likely be you who is reading this, I will address this to you.  
I wanted to tell you that I agree with what you told me in the auditorium. Your sister deserves support from your family and while not much, I hope she enjoys the flowers. In language of flowers derived from the Victorian Era, peonies meant healing and while I don't believe in folklore such as that, it's a nice thought to believe that they will make her better.

Sincerely, Ohtori Kyouya."

Nekozawa felt a warm sensation spreading through his chest, similar to what he felt when he saw that his sister was awake. The letter was so…_Kyouya_. It made him smile. Nekozawa greatly appreciated both the letter and the flowers. And it just further proved the fact that Kyouya didn't do everything for merits. He would have to find a way to thank the Ohtori.

With letter still in hand, he gave a shy smile towards the flowers. He might have just found a muse.

-o0o-

The next day, the Ouran campus was sunny, bright, and generally all of the other things that Nekozawa detested. He had always been thankful that he never had a window seat in any of his classes.

He was still trying to figure out a way to thank Kyouya and was pretty sure he had an idea, when he ran into a figure in the hallway. He paid no attention to the person, mumbled "excuse me" and stepped aside to get out of the other person's way. But they stepped right into his path and Nekozawa began to suspect that they were doing it on purpose. He looked up and was met with an ugly smirk, muddy brown eyes and equally muddy brown hair.

Nekozawa didn't know the male's name, but the blonde knew that he was the rich son of a high prolific yakuza member and he generally liked to pick on students with less power than himself. Great.

"Excuse me," he tried to get away from the other male, but his path was blocked. He heard chuckling behind him and realized that he was surrounded. Two other males came into his line of vision; more yakuza members. God, what did they want, his lunch money? He hadn't had to deal with crap like this in years.

"If you could please let me through," Nekozawa tried again, this time in his infamous gloomy club voice. He held up his cat puppet and grinned, "Bereznoff and I are in a hurry."

The two lackeys seemed apprehensive at this. They sent each other worried glances probably thinking something along the lines of they were going to get cursed, but the leader didn't seem impressed.

"I'm afraid I can't do that because we're curious."

Curious?

"You see, we were wondering why you never show your face. I think it's 'cause you're probably ugly, but my boys want more proof than that." The leader began to advance towards him and Nekozawa backed up until he hit a figure behind him. Before he could react, his hood was ripped off and he flinched at the heavy fluorescent light that invaded his face.

"Aww, did that hurt? What do you know, he isn't ugly."

The leader cupped Nekozawa's chin and looked at the blonde, who was still flinching in pain, questioningly.

"So why do you hide your face if you're such a pretty boy?"

"Light..."

The moment Nekozawa saw the smirk on the younger boy's face, he realized that he should have just kept his mouth shut.

"Is that so?"

One of the boys held him from behind while the leader ripped off the rest of his cloak. Nekozawa made the mistake of struggling and tried to push his tormentors off.

The blow his jaw sent him sprawling to the floor and his wig skidded off. _The last of his protection..._

The combination of fluorescent light and sunlight from the ridiculously huge bay windows flared at Nekozawa and seared his unprotected skin. They had to do this on the bloody _sunniest_ day of the year.

"He's a blonde too!" One of the boys laughed. Said blonde just lay there, unable to find the strength to get up. Tears sprung up in his eyes from a combination of pain and humiliation. He definitely hadn't felt this way in years. And just when Nekozawa had resigned himself to lie there, growing more light-headed by the second, one of the males kicked him in the side. He grunted and curled into a ball, in fiery pain with the last of his strength, hoping they wouldn't kick him again, hoping the world would just go away.

When Nekozawa's vision began to dim, his attackers walked away, taking his cloak and wig with them. He heard the leader of the group say something about "a trophy to show the boys" before their footsteps faded.

And the blonde was left alone on the ground. His breathing was becoming a little difficult, a sign to him that he would pass out soon. His head was pounding and he began to hope that he would. As Nekozawa's vision dimmed more, he began to hear footsteps heading towards him. He hoped the bullies weren't coming back because they would be sorely disappointed if they were.

But the footsteps quickened in pace and became louder until he knew the person was beside him. The person couldn't have been someone who was trying to hurt him, though, because first he or she did was check his pulse and then wrapped his/her arm around his shoulders to sit him up with a certain gentleness he had never felt before.

The person probably thought he was completely unconscious, but Nekozawa still felt safe and warm pressed up against them.

A small smile slid to his lips before darkness completely overcame him.

-o0o-

-White Day is the day where guys give presents back to girls from Valentines Day.  
-"Doki-doki" is the sound your heart makes when you see your crush. (In other words, the onomatopoeia for a quickly beating heart.)

Yeah, we all know who found him. Yeah, I need to work on my fight scenes. Yeah, this fails. Yeah, I need to shut up. Bah, review.


	7. Dreams

**Warning: **This chapter contains a very apologetic authoress, a fake make-out scene, a real kiss, a Tamaki cameo, incredibly awkward sexual situations and a strange diversion into fluff/humor.

Disclaimer: I don't own Ouran.

Authoress Note: I'm very serious about all of those warnings. So sorry guys. D: I was stuck in a mega-rut for god knows how long. And then my computer contracted an annoying virus, thanks to my cousins. And this chapter was mega-rushed. I feel like it's like a train wreck, where everything gets worse the longer it goes on. So I decided to bribe you all once again. :D ('Cause the link wouldn't work last chapter.)  
This chapter has some serious, uh, "making out" going on (I put that in quotation marks for a reason). The closest thing to sex you guys are probably going to get. This is a dirty, dirty chapter.

So enjoy. :D

-o0o-

Kyouya was beginning to wonder, why, of all people, did these types of things happen to him?

He had been walking down the empty Ouran hallways with the intention of running an errand for a teacher (the same one whom allowed him to skip) when he came across a body lying on the floor. When he came closer, he realized that it was Nekozawa, who was not wearing his cloak or his wig. Kyouya's heart certainly did not start racing. Not at all.

He eventually came to the conclusion that the blonde had probably passed out as a consequence, but Kyouya checked his pulse to make sure. After being certain that the boy wasn't in any serious danger, Kyouya had to wonder where Nekozawa's usual items were. He still had his cat puppet, but where were the rest of them?

Were they taken? Did Nekozawa suddenly decide to venture without them? That didn't sound likely.

While pondering this, a sudden realization dawned on Kyouya with the subtlety of a ton of bricks. He was going to have to move Nekozawa. By himself.

Kyouya had left his cell phone in the classroom with Tamaki so the idiot could entertain himself, which meant that he couldn't call anyone to pick up the blonde for him. Plus, just leaving Nekozawa on the ground to go find someone seemed a little cruel, even for Kyouya. And it wasn't worth the long trek back because they were essentially in the middle of the campus. So Kyouya sat his upperclassman up with surprising ease, concluding that Nekozawa would be light enough to lift bridal-style and, as he leaned the boy's body against his chest, he could have swore that he saw a ghost of a smile spread across Nekozawa's lips, but he probably just imagined it.

And as Kyouya placed his arm underneath the blonde's knees for support, he tried to squash down the warm fluttering in his stomach when he felt his arm brush against Nekozawa's thighs. No, he was not going to think about that.

He needed to get Nekozawa to the nurse's office, or a dark room and he didn't have time to be reminded of his small attraction to the blonde.

But even so, as he lifted Nekozawa off of the ground (he was thankful for how light the boy was), Kyouya could feel his own pulse quicken. He could feel the warmth of Nekozawa's body seeping through to his chest and down his stomach and that familiar sensation was building up in his lower regions. Kyouya tried his best to squash these feelings down, but his hand tingled underneath Nekozawa's thighs and he couldn't help to find the older boy, as much as he didn't want to admit it, attractive.

Golden strands of hair were falling around Nekozawa's face in a becoming way. His lips were pink and full and were in a slight smile that he normally wore when he was relaxed. His skin was smooth-looking and blemish free and contained a slight flush because of his pallor. If he wasn't so photophobic, Kyouya mused, he might have made a popular host. It was a shame that he hid his face and his body.

Kyouya abruptly stopped his train of thought. His control was slipping, badly.

Finally sure that he wouldn't drop the boy, he started down the hallway, thankful that the nurse's office wasn't as far away as the classrooms. Also, that the chances of anyone spotting them were slim, being in the middle of class and all.

Convincing himself that carrying the blonde was the right choice of action and it wasn't an excuse to have physical contact with him, Kyouya set down the ridiculously long hallway.

-o0o-

Nekozawa was sure he was dreaming. He had to be. That was the only logical explanation he could come up with for what he was experiencing.

Not only was he in a room filled with light (in the host club room, no less!) and seemed to not suffer the consequences, but Kyouya was straddling his waist for reasons he couldn't fathom.

Nekozawa felt dazed of sorts, probably due to the close proximity of the other boy. The younger teen was so close, his breath tingled against Nekozawa's cheeks. His eyes bore down into the blonde's and reflected passion and secrets. They danced mischievously and Nekozawa found himself curious and filled with want. The blonde had little clue what was going on, but at the moment, he didn't care.

Then Kyouya bridged the gap between them and their lips touched. It was so sinful, yet felt so right and after a brief mental debate, Nekozawa let his eyes close and kissed back.

Kyouya's lips felt delicious moving against his and Nekozawa could feel his body temperature beginning to rise. He was quickly becoming lost in a myriad of senses. Kyouya's body was seeping warmth through to his and when Kyouya's tongue pushed through his slightly parted lips and brushed against his own, heat began to seep down Nekozawa's gut and a fire grew between them. Kyouya cupped the blonde face as his tongue moved against Nekozawa's.

The younger boy tasted sweet and cool, like mint, but different.

At first it started out slowly, each of them becoming acquainted with the depths of each other's mouths and built up the hotter they both became. They kissed for what felt like hours until Kyouya's hands moved from Nekozawa's face and broke the kiss to search for the blonde's hands and bring them above his head. The new change excited him.

Their lips and tongues met again with more fervor, losing the pretense of being shy and exploring. Kyouya bit down sharply on his upperclassman's lip and the reaction was unexpected. Nekozawa arched his hips upward, creating a surprising, but not un-pleasurable, friction between them.

They both paused at the sudden heat that shot through their lower regions.

Nekozawa's mind was in a whirl. He was thinking that they were going far too fast, but when Kyouya ground their hips together again, his mind was effectively shut up by the craving that coursed through him. All he knew is that he had never been more turned on in his life. All he cared about was that hot, tightening feeling below his belly and Kyouya's mouth on his (god, that boy was good with his tongue). He groaned into the kiss when the grinding continued and he could only wish his hands weren't being restrained so he could touch his underclassman in some way, or at least unzip his pants a little. The tightness he was feeling down there wasn't comfortable in the least bit.

But the thoughts and complaints were soon lost as Kyouya broke the kiss to suck and do more incredible things with his tongue along Nekozawa's neck and the grinding became more frantic. He felt like he would burst from the confines of his pants at any minute. The blonde felt so hot all over, but the sparks he felt every time they rubbed together were incredible at the same time. The only thing he felt would be more amazing was if Kyouya gratified him with his mouth.

As though hearing the unspoken request, Kyouya sat up. His lips were swollen, his hair disheveled, and his face was slightly flushed, but he looked absolutely beautiful. Both of them were breathing heavily and Nekozawa wondered how mussed his own appearance was. Without saying a word, Kyouya got off of the blonde's waist and sat down between his legs. Nekozawa's eyes widened almost comically as the boy knelt down and began to unzip the blonde's pants.  
_  
He wouldn't-!_

Nekozawa swallowed harshly as it became incredibly apparent what Kyouya's intention was. His face was so close.

"Nekozawa-sempai..."

The blonde briefly wondered who was calling him, but decided that it didn't matter. Kyouya opened his mouth...

_"Sempai!"_

Nekozawa found himself jolted into the realm of consciousness and decided, as he stared at the back of his eyelids, that he was certainly going to curse whoever woke him up.

He opened his eyes and was surprised to see none other than Kyouya's slightly worried ones looking down at him. He was also surprised to realize that Kyouya's hands were pinning his arms above his head and he briefly wondered if he was having that, "dreaming that you're dreaming," type of scenario.

They were in a secluded room (check), the lights were dim (check), and Kyouya was pinning him down to a bed of some sort (check). It seemed like the perfect basis for a dream.

But if he was truly experiencing a dream, it was a cruel one, because Kyouya let go upon realizing that the blonde was awake and the third thing Nekozawa noticed was the uncomfortable tightness in the crotch of his pants and figured that the dream had aroused him to such a state. He shifted to make it less noticeable, a mistake, because then _Kyouya's_ attention was drawn towards the uncomfortable tightness in Nekozawa's crotch.

Oh, it wasn't a dream, it was a nightmare.

Nekozawa could feel his face slowly heat up. Kyouya quickly adverted his gaze and his expression seemed to be a combination of surprise, amusement, and embarrassment for his fellow man.

It was worse than a nightmare; it was real. Nekozawa prayed to every deity he could think of (as well as to the darkness) that Kyouya would not say anything. It had been acknowledged, but he hoped it would remain unspoken and, therefore, a nonexistent occurrence between them. But Nekozawa was never really a lucky person.

"Would Nekozawa-sempai like me to leave so he can, uh…take care of himself?"

Kyouya said this while not actually facing the blonde, so Nekozawa couldn't tell if he was being serious or just mocking him. If Kyouya was mocking him, it was certainly working. Nekozawa couldn't have been more mortified at the question if the brunet had actually made the hand motions.

"No, I wouldn't do that at school," he mumbled and sat up on the examination table/bed, embarrassed, "I'm sure it will go away on its own."

He hoped.

Nekozawa changed the subject. It was becoming too uncomfortable for him, with his erection being the focal point and all.

"Why are we in here? And where is my cloak?" Where _were_ they, anyway?

"You passed out in the hallway and your things were taken."

Nekozawa decided that Kyouya didn't need to know that he was actually mugged.

"I found you and brought you here, to the nurse's office. Then you started to talk in your sleep,"

Kyouya picked up a chart beside the blonde and Nekozawa felt strangely compelled to compare the situation to visiting a doctor's office. He was the patient and Kyouya was the doctor, how ironic.

"I went to wake you up and you started fighting me, so I pinned your arms down…" Kyouya made a sweeping motion with his hand as if to say, "And you know the rest."

Nekozawa lowered his head with an even deeper blush. He knew the rest; he didn't have to be reminded.

"Thank you for helping me, Ohtori-kun. I don't know how I'm going to repay you."

Kyouya looked up from the chart he had started filling out. His smile was downright frightening.

"I'm sure you'll think of something," he said and Nekozawa could feel a chill creep up his spine. He internally shivered, having no doubt that he was in Kyouya's debt now.

Kyouya went back to his writing, paused for a second, and looked up with an expression that Nekozawa was sure that meant he was about to cast his doom. It was cruel and was actually somewhat curious.

"Sempai, what exactly were you dreaming of?"

Somehow, Nekozawa's blush deepened. He stared at his lap (which thankfully no longer contained a certain bulge), unable to come up with an answer or an appropriate lie.

"Nothing."

Because, really, what was he supposed to say to Kyouya? Something like, 'Oh, I dreamed we almost got to third base.' The blonde sincerely doubted that that would hold over well with the Ohtori.

Kyouya raised an eyebrow, "Nothing?"

Nekozawa nodded and turned away, "It is nothing I wish Ohtori-kun to know. It is a very private matter."

And it was. Kyouya didn't answer and continued to write something down, leaving the room in silence. As much as Nekozawa was used to being alone, he hated dead silence. Especially silences that were oppressive as the one he was facing. It felt awkward to him, like trying to move in heavy, dense air. Kyouya stopped writing.

"The nurse sent someone to track down your clothing. I'm sure you aren't injured, so I'll be leaving now. Will you be alright?"

"Yes, thank you."

Kyouya meant to put the clipboard he was holding back to its original location. As pure coincidence would have it, the holder was behind Nekozawa and, without thinking about the closeness that he would be imposing on the two, he reached behind the blonde to put the board in its slot. When their close proximity registered, he froze. They both froze along with time itself.

Kyouya's arm was practically draped over Nekozawa's shoulder and their faces were inches apart. The blonde could feel his breath hitch and his heartbeat thundered in his ears. _They were so close..._

Nekozawa's sapphire eyes stared up into Kyouya's slate-gray ones and as though drawn by a magnetic force, a pull they couldn't control, they slowly leaned towards each other. It seemed to take ages, but neither paused until finally, their lips touched. It was momentous, it was magic, and it was electric. Something not quite tangible, but definitely intense shot between them. It prompted them to experiment, to move their lips to see how this other person felt and for a brief moment, nothing in the world mattered but themselves.

Not Kirimi, not Kameko, not fear and not solitude.

It was incredible, both of them couldn't help but to think as they slowly backed out of the kiss. That is, until reality crashed on them and the air couldn't have gotten more awkward. They both turned away, the tips of Nekozawa's ears turning red and a hot flush running up the back of Kyouya's neck.

They had crossed a line, they knew.

Kyouya coughed uncomfortably as he backed away to a more respectable distance from the blonde. Good lord, what had he been thinking…?

"Anyway, like I said, I'll be leaving now—" Kyouya didn't in get another word because, at that moment, the door slammed open, startling them both. The host club King entered, looking distraught, and as loud as usual. Tamaki paused when he noticed the awkward tension between the two teens, but he paid it no mind and continued with his tirade.

"Mother! I heard you were kidnapped!" He latched onto said, 'mother's' arm and Nekozawa felt a sudden surge of...Of what? Jealousy? Rage? Both words seemed compatible to what he was feeling.

"And that you're being held captive by Nekozawa-sempai and he's torturing you!"

Tamaki seemed to have forgotten that Nekozawa was in the room, which the older teen decided to take to his full advantage. He picked up Bereznoff, who lay forgotten beside him, got up and hovered over to the other blonde's shoulder.

"Suoh-kun...you're just in time..." he smiled when Tamaki shrieked. He always got a sick pleasure out of teasing the younger teen.

"I was about to do the most horrible things to Ohtori-kun, but I think you'll make a nice substitute," Nekozawa looked up at Kyouya to see his reaction, but the brunet seemed to not care about the conversation in the least bit.

Tamaki chuckled and scratched the back of his head nervously. "No, that's okay, sempai…I-I think I'll just leave," he backed away, uneasily, from his upperclassman and walked to the door. He paused. Tamaki looked at the two other occupants of the room and seemed to form an idea. A bright smile slowly spread across his lips.

"Don't hurt Kyouya too much, sempai," he chirped and left the room.

Nekozawa stared after him and Kyouya shook his head incredulously, like he couldn't believe he was friends with that idiot.

"Why do you tease him so much?" Kyouya asked, facing Nekozawa after Tamaki was long gone. He sounded amused.

Nekozawa shrugged with a slight smile. "He's easy to tease."

The tension between them melted and Kyouya found himself smiling as well. It would be hard to forget the kiss, his lips still tingled, but he was sure they wouldn't mention it anytime soon. They were heading into dangerous territory, Kyouya knew. Perhaps it was something even more than a crush, but Kyouya didn't want to believe that just yet. He would just have to be more careful when he was around the blonde.

"Like I was saying previously, I think I'd better leave," Kyouya began to make his way to the door and was stopped suddenly by a hand on his shoulder. The contact sent tingles down Kyouya's spine.

"Ohtori-kun...?" Nekozawa swallowed heavily, unsure of what to say.

Kyouya turned towards the blonde, his eyebrows raised, feigning coolness when in actuality his stomach was a bowl of mush. "Yes?"

Nekozawa fidgeted, still fighting for the right words. He was inexplicably nervous and could feel his hands beginning to sweat. The tension between the two of them was back, making it difficult to speak.

"Thank you. She enjoyed them," Nekozawa said eventually, hoping Kyouya understood what he meant.

Kyouya nodded and faced the door, "You're both welcome."

He left and the blonde almost melted to the floor. His lips tingled and his heartbeat refused to slow down.

His first kiss had been stolen.

-o0o-

Authoress Note: Woo! XD Wasn't that fluffy for a change? Happy New Year to everyone and I hope you've had a splendid holiday. :D Again, really sorry about the long wait, but hopefully the next update will be sooner.  
I hope this chapter did not disappoint.

Please review.


	8. Perfect

Warning: This chapter contains a still incredibly apologetic authoress, possibly OOC-ness, a bit of mind-screwery, a hallmark ending, and kisses. Lots and lots of kisses.

Disclaimer: I don't own Ouran, but man, if I did…

Authoress Note: Before I begin my 'excuses and why you should forgive me' segment, let me just say: Ho'damn. o__o This chapter ended up eleven pages (almost 4k words).

And with that out of the way, I would like to apologize (again) for the extremely long wait. I was involved with two play productions (it shows in this chapter) and if you've ever been in one, you know how mind-draining those things can be. Also, I said I needed to get a few one-shots out of the way. I've written about _eight_. And one of them is the longest chapter to anything I've _ever_ written. It's about Kyouya's mother and I would appreciated it if everyone could read it (It's called "Castle Down"). It's pretty good, if I do say so myself. ;D

I also apologize if the resolution to this is rushed, but it will all make sense near the end of this whole fic (which is no where near, unfortunately). And, god is Neko and Kyou's dialogue difficult to write. D: I've made it mostly sarcasm, so hopefully that fits? With that said:

Onward!

Severely un-beta'd.

---o0o---

By the next day, no matter how hard they tried neither boy could get that kiss, that earth-shattering, miraculous kiss, out of their heads. It was like a huge TV event that that would be re-run endlessly, burning its contents into their minds, and forcing them to remember every obscure or remarkable detail.

Kyouya even found himself inexplicably touching his lips at the memory, feeling Nekozawa's mouth on his, but halted once he realized what he was doing.

Nekozawa even told his sleeping sister about it, because she was sleeping and he was sure that if Kirimi wasn't sick, she would gush over him like one of her favorite BL manga characters (He was going to have to kill Kuretake for influencing his sister in such a horrible, otaku way).

But something positive did come out as a result of the kiss. Nekozawa finally realized what he could give his underclassman as a thank you for the flowers. He would have give something of monetary value, but he decided that would imply that he thought the gift was for merits (Kyouya's main motivator for doing anything) and a chance to butter-up the Nekozawa family and thank them for staying in one of his family's hospitals (something Umehito hadn't even realized until he received the flowers). He knew that, despite what Kyouya might say otherwise, the action was essentially merit-less and the thank you gift should represent that.

So Kyouya found himself surprised when a large, black envelope was resting in his locker when he opened it the next morning.

Curious, he picked it up, though he already had a good idea on whom it was from. He turned it over and, sure enough, in silver writing there was written: "To Ohtori Kyouya, from Nekozawa Umehito."

Kyouya couldn't help the small smile that began tugging at his lips. Nekozawa certainly had a flair for the dramatic. Nonetheless, he opened the envelope, which contained two folded pieces of paper. One was a short letter that read:

"Dear Ohtori-kun,

I wanted to thank you again for the flowers. They continue to brighten up Kirimi's hospital room. Also, I wanted to apologize again for intruding on you playing. I gathered that playing violin was a secret of yours, so I felt it fair to show you mine.

Sincerely, Umehito"

Again tempted by curiosity, (what could Nekozawa's secret be?) he opened the other piece of paper and found himself astonished.

On the piece of paper was a pencil drawing of himself playing violin. The fold in the center of the paper didn't deter from the immaculate detail and work that must have been poured into the art. It was beautiful, the grey shades and lines and Kyouya was pleasantly surprised. He had no idea that Nekozawa had artistic talent. He wondered why his upperclassman would keep such a secret, but then he realized that the reason may be similar to his own.

They were even now (bar the favor that Nekozawa owned him from the previous day, something Kyouya was sure he would exploit in the future) and Kyouya was a hundred percent certain that his secret would not get out, not that he believed Nekozawa would tell anyone. He just didn't like a chance for anyone to have the upper hand.

Kyouya decided he would correspond back. Despite what his better judgment was telling was telling him, he didn't want to let it end there. He didn't know what he wanted from the blonde, but something was pulling him further into the black hole of confusion that surrounded the two.

So he wrote and Nekozawa also found himself surprised to see a plain white envelope in his locker later that day with the Ohtori symbol on it, similar to the one found in his sister's hospital room.

For some reason, Nekozawa founding his cheeks coloring, warming up at the sight of it and his hands grew sweaty. Was he really that nervous when Kyouya was involved? What was wrong with him? He wasn't some infatuated school girl. He shook his head and opened the letter, which read:

"Dear Nekozawa-senpai,

Thank you for the art. I would have never guessed you were such a talented artist, but after seeing your work, it fits in a way. You should be relieved to know that any former animosity that might have been between us is now erased on my part, but don't think that make us even. Don't forget how much effort I put into helping you yesterday. Also, the piece I played the other day was an original; it does not have a title.

Sincerely, Ohtori Kyouya"

Then, added at the bottom of the paper, almost as an afterthought was written:

"Feel free to text me at 721-4538. It's a bit more convenient than sending notes."

A myriad of emotions swam through Nekozawa as he read the letter. At first he was happy because Kyouya liked his art and thought he was talented. And he _was _relieved to know that Kyouya didn't hate (though hate was probably an exaggeration) him anymore for intruding in the host club room. He was slightly disheartened to realize that he was still in the shadow king's debt, but that faded to the surprise that Kyouya wrote the beautiful piece he played the other day himself.

Then that light-headed, heart thumping feeling returned when he saw that Kyouya included his cell phone number. Did the brunet want Nekozawa to text him? _Should _Nekozawa text him?

He wanted to keep in contact with the younger male, but the whole situation was kind of surreal. Why would Kyouya want Nekozawa of all people to text him? Did that mean that Kyouya considered him to be somewhat a friend? And what about the kiss?

Nekozawa inexplicably found himself blushing again. He had forgotten about the kiss in the excitement of the letter. What did it even mean?

He had enjoyed it; he couldn't deny that. Even as socially inept as he was, he knew that the kiss had been filled with budding attraction and understanding. He had wanted more, just like in his dreams. He had wanted Kyouya's lips to devour his, he had wanted to run his fingers through ebony hair, and the thought made him more nervous about contacting Kyouya. He was attracted to the Ohtori; that much was becoming clear to him. Both mentally and physically. The thought was invigorating and frightening at the same time. How could he bear to be around the Ohtori now that he realized his attraction? What if Kyouya didn't even like him back?

Something clicked inside of the blonde and it made him feel horribly cold. He hadn't even considered the possibility. After all, what if the kiss was a fluke? How could he respond back to Kyouya with that type of apprehension?

Nekozawa suddenly frowned, feeling a bit ridiculous. It was only a text message, but he kept feeling all out of sorts at the thought of it. He really was becoming an infatuated school girl.

With a sigh, he took out his cell phone and contemplated on what he wanted the message to be. In the end, he only managed a very lame: "I'm glad you liked the art," because it was giving him so much distress and he couldn't bear to make it any longer.

--o0o--

Kyouya blinked at the unexpected vibrating of his phone in his pocket. He glanced up at his teacher, who was so wound up in his lesson, he didn't notice the sound, before taking out the phone and reading the short message.

A small smile adorned his lips when he realized that Nekozawa decided to contact him after all, but it disappeared the moment he saw Tamaki's curious gaze. He looked back up at the teacher and replied, phone down by his side:

_/You're welcome. What class are you in right now? /_

He snapped his phone shut and put it in his pocket, but not without noticing the folded note that flew onto his desk.

"Who was that?" It read and Kyouya put it aside, not even bothering to answer his too curious friend. He seemed to be getting a lot of messages today.

A little more encouraged by the quick response, Nekozawa replied back, taking a jab at Kyouya's seemingly endless knowledge of his peers.

_/You actually don't know? I'm supposed to be in physics. /_

A more amused smirk graced Kyouya's lips at the response. He replied:

/_Supposed to be?_ /  
--

/_I didn't feel like attending. I'm heading to the library_. /  
--

/_You always seem to be skipping when I contact you. You're going to fail at this rate_. /  
--

_/I'm not concerned, science bores me. I'd rather read._ /  
--

/_Really? I like science; it's based on practicality._ /  
--

Nekozawa couldn't help but to smile at this. Such a Kyouya response.

/_Of course you do. I'm more of a fan of literature. Especially English._ /

Kyouya decided to ignore the jab at his callousness and instead asked:

/_You speak English?_ /  
--

/_Yes, Russian too. /_

There was a semi-long wait between the messages that allowed Nekozawa to enter the second library (and receive a reproaching look from the librarian) and settle into his favorite place, the horror section.

/_What type of literature do you like?_ /  
--

/_The classic gothic novels and such_. /  
--

/_Of course you do_. /

There was a pause in their flow of correspondence, the eventually Nekozawa replied back:

/_I deserved that_. /  
--

/_Not necessarily. It was just too easy_. /  
--

/_I suppose we're both a bit predicable in some aspects_. /  
--

/_Except for our incredible artistic talent_. /

Nekozawa blinked at the response. He couldn't tell if Kyouya was complimenting him (and himself by default) or joking. He decided to leave it up to Kyouya on what his response was.

/_Someone's modest_. /  
--

/_I never denied that I wasn't. I find modesty pointless_. /  
--

/_I don't think it is when it's genuine. I hate faked modesty_. /  
--

/_Then it's a good thing I don't pretend to be modest, isn't it?_ /

An amused smirk grew to Nekozawa's lips. His entire time spent in the library was spent texting, but he didn't mind in the least bit. He was a bit surprised though that Kyouya would waste an entire class period doing it.

It either meant that Kyouya was extremely bored or he really did want to talk to Nekozawa. The blonde once again began to wonder what Kyouya felt about the kiss and him in general. It had to be known and Nekozawa knew that he had to ask the brunet. Not via text message, it was too personal for that, and as Nekozawa began to type the request, he just knew that he was digging his own grave.

/_Can you meet me in the second auditorium during lunch? I have something to speak with you about_. /

Something in Kyouya froze when he received the message. He had good idea on what Nekozawa wanted to speak with him about and honestly, he wished that it hadn't come up. Talking to Nekozawa about the kiss would only confirm the attraction Kyouya knew that he felt for the blonde and would probably ignite something that Kyouya wasn't sure he wanted to be a part of.

How had a simple crush gotten this out of hand?

Kyouya decided that he would have to nip this growing relationship in the bud before it turning into something he couldn't control.

/_Sure._ /

He replied back and grew weary as the bell for lunch approached. He didn't _want _to reject Nekozawa, of course, he still cared for the blonde in a way, but it had to be done.

/_Thank you_. /

And that pretty much signaled the end of their conversation. Nekozawa snapped his phone shut, still feeling positively nervous. What if Kyouya didn't like him? What if he did? Both options made him feel apprehensive. After all, he had never been in a relationship before, assuming that Kyouya would even want to be in one.

With a sigh, he got up and decided to go ahead and venture to the auditorium. The wait would kill him either way, but he would rather be in the auditorium to spare him some of the anxiousness he felt. So he left and his mind wouldn't cease to ramble about previous events. The kiss kept playing constantly and the more he thought about it, the more he was convinced of his feelings for the brunet.

In that brief embrace, Nekozawa had never felt more…_wanted_. He had felt like nothing in the world mattered but Kyouya's lips on his. He had felt like everything would be okay, that is sister would pull out of her illness unscathed, that he would finally be able to walk the halls without being pointed at. He didn't want to get his hopes up, but to be able to feel like that every day? The thought was incredible and yet, it terrified him because there was still that uncertainty that _Kyouya didn't like him back_.

Nekozawa sighed again. He was getting nowhere with that backwards way of thinking, but there was no use trying to stop it, was there? His mind would continue to prattle on until it received an answer and he hoped to the darkness it was the one he wanted.

--o0o--

Kyouya was not looking forward to this. He felt like he was in the fourth grade again and was being forced to realize that he could never have what he wanted because of who he was.

(_Because people don't always accept what is different._)

He could never be with Nekozawa, he would never have the luxury of feeling the boy's lips on his again, and it was goddamn frustrating.

It angered Kyouya to no end that even if he obtained his goals with his family's company, he still wouldn't be able to have the simplicity of someone to care for because _love wasn't practical_. And that wasn't something that he could just move on from and forget.

Kyouya sighed when his hand latched onto the doorknob of the second auditorium. He was stalling, he knew, but he also knew that while he could get over rejecting his and Nekozawa's relationship, he didn't really want to hurt the blonde.

Nekozawa was going through a tough time and he didn't need the rejection of his underclassman on top of it all. Even if it wasn't romantically inclined, Kyouya had found a sort of fondness in the cat-lover over the past couple of days. They were more alike in ways Kyouya would never have realized. It was strange how it was a tragic illness that brought them together, but Kyouya knew he had to end it.

Tired of wasting time, and wanting to get this over with, Kyouya opened the second auditorium door and mentally barricaded his heart.

Nekozawa was sitting there, on the apron of the stage and seemed to be having a silent conversation with his cat puppet. He looked up when the door closed.

"Senpai, you wanted to speak with me?" Kyouya asked, but kept his distance, remaining at a place near the first row of house seats. It was dark enough that his expression was completely unreadable. Nekozawa frowned at this, but nodded anyway.

"Yes, I want to talk to you about yesterday," the blonde tried to fake apathy, but it was hard with his stomach churning and his palms sweating so much. He could hardly hear himself think through his heartbeat. But of course, Kyouya didn't seem to have that problem at all.

"What about it?"

Nekozawa swallowed, willing the darkness to give him strength.

"I wanted to ask you about our kiss, because…it felt like it was more than just a kiss to me. But if it didn't mean anything to you, that's fine. We don't have to talk about it again and I'll leave you alone, but please, you have to tell me, did the kiss mean anything to you?"

He looked up at Kyouya, almost hopeful.

"No, it didn't."

_Snap, _went the sound of Umehito's heart.

"_Oh_. Okay," Nekozawa tried not to sound as pathetic as he felt. His throat constricted with the urge to cry (he knew he shouldn't have bothered) and he stood with only part of his face visible through his hood and hair, but his smile was clearly sad.

"Thank you for telling me," his voice sounded heartbroken and Kyouya looked away because he didn't want to recognize that he caused it. The shield wasn't that effective; it still hurt a little.

The pain that Nekozawa felt was resonating off of him in waves, but he walked off the stage bravely, through the back curtains and out of the stage door and Kyouya watched, angry at himself for causing that pain and angry that he never took a chance. Finally a boy who liked Kyouya back and didn't care about the other things and Kyouya had to reject him.

_Why?_

_Why _did he have to reject him? At this rate, Kyouya would be lonely for the rest of his life. Did he want that? No, he didn't, but what choice did he have? Was there really a way for him to be with someone?

But…

He didn't want to go through his life without knowing what it was like to want someone and have them want him back. Of course he didn't want that. And wasn't it better to live life and regret what he had experienced than to go through life wondering what it'd be like if he had taken the chance?

But he had missed his chance; there would be no happy ending.

'_Go catch him_,_'_ a voice he normally ignored seemed to whisper in his mind. It was his free will, his heart.

Kyouya thought of all the ways this could end badly, all of his chances for failure and all of the outcomes, but who was his heart to care?

'_Go!' _It commanded and, for the first time in his life, Kyouya obeyed.

He went out of the opposing auditorium doors, hoping to catch the blonde before it was too late. He spotted Nekozawa a distance away, looking every bit as miserable as he had the right to feel.

Kyouya caught up and stopped Nekozawa with a hand on his shoulder and the blonde turned around with a startled expression.

"Ohtori-kun…?"

"I came to apologize," and that was something Kyouya thought he'd never say sincerely. "What I said back there was a lie."

Nekozawa's gaze turned strangely cold and Kyouya realized that the older male was angry.

"I don't want your pity Ohtori-kun. I told you I'd leave you alone; I expect the same of you."

He turned away but Kyouya caught his arm before he could leave.

"This isn't pity."

"Then what is it, mockery? You made your feelings loud and clear, I will not be made a fool of."

He tried to yank away, but Kyouya refused to let go. There was no way he was going to give up after all of this. He pulled out a set of keys to one of the prop rooms they were near and dragged Nekozawa (who seemed to stop struggling out of pure curiosity) into one. He closed the door behind them and faced Nekozawa who was confused, annoyed, but mostly sad.

"Ohtori-kun, what are you doing…?"

Then he pushed Nekozawa against the closed door, gripped his chin, and positively ravished his lips.

It wasn't at all like their first kiss, which was slow and sweet. This was hungry, raw, and almost frantic like Kyouya thought that Nekozawa still wouldn't believe him and he needed to get all he could out of the kiss because it may have been their last.

There was no danger of that, though. Nekozawa practically melted upon the contact. If Kyouya was lying, the blonde thought, he was a damn good liar (and he wouldn't mind if Kyouya lied to him some more). Gods, how long had he dreamt of this moment? To have Kyouya's hands around his hips and his own hands buried in raven hair? Nekozawa was pretty sure he was going to forgive the younger male for all of the anxiety he caused him by the time Kyouya's tongue breached his lips. He could barely remember what he was angry about when their tongues collided, hot and passionate.

His legs felt like jelly when Kyouya broke the kiss to suck along his jaw line and neck. He felt like his whole body was on fire, sizzling with heat but dripping in euphoria.

And…_ah_… that boy was good with his mouth. Nekozawa didn't want to think about what else he could do.

"O-Ohtori-kun…?"

And this was Nekozawa, gasping, with his nails digging into the other's back, practically arching into the younger teen.

"Hmm?"

They needed to stop before it got too out of hand.

"I-I believe you now…"

Kyouya didn't seem too concerned.

"That's nice."

So they kissed and kissed for what felt like hours until the initial flame waned into embers.

They had moved from the door at some point and were not sitting on a prop throne chair (well, Kyouya was; Nekozawa was on his lap) and the kissing was punctuated with quiet talking.

"How is this going to work?" Nekozawa murmured with Kyouya's lips centimeters away from his own.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you stopped dealing with the host club because of some other sort of arrangement…"

Oh. It always went back to her, didn't it? Kyouya placed a brief kiss on the blonde's lips before looking up solemnly at his upperclassman.

"Nekozawa, I need to tell you something."

Umehito certainly didn't like the tone of that sentence. He shifted away, questioningly.

"What?"

"My father is hoping for a deal with the Nakamura Company, but, unfortunately, they don't think we're suitable business partners. So he's forced me to pursue a relationship with the patriarch's daughter."

Nekozawa frowned and began to detangle himself from Kyouya's embrace. Really, fine time for the brunet to let him know he was already in a relationship.

"Why didn't Ohtori-kun say this before we—?"

He was pulled back in and cut off with a smothering kiss. When they broke apart, Kyouya looked at him seriously.

"I didn't say anything because I didn't think it mattered. I speak the truth when I say that I have no feelings for her. She's insignificant to me, another task to surpass given by my father. Let me make this clear right now: I want no one but _you_."

And how long had Nekozawa waited to hear that statement? How long had he sought after and waited to hear someone say that he was wanted? It felt good. It felt damn good. So Nekozawa couldn't help but to find it in him to forgive the younger teen for not mentioning the other girl.

"I want you too," he smiled and leaned back in for another kiss, because with Kyouya's lips on his, nothing could be more perfect.

---o0o---

Authoress Note: My god that was sappy. xD Those two really are teenagers down to the core of it (Lol at them texting). So…they're together now? I guess so.

But this fic is by no means over. Not in the slightest (them getting together was hurtle, there are many more to come).

And I hope Nekozawa's low self-esteem is pretty obvious, because it's going to come back and haunt him in the future.

So if anybody is still there, review plz~? D:

-rolls away-


	9. Unspoken Consequences

Warnings: A head-spinning combination of angst and humor, a time lapse, my OC, and Russian.

Disclaimer: I don't own Ouran.

Authoress Note: PFFFT. I have no excuse for the lateness of this chapter. I just got lazy and super obsessed with Hetalia (seriously, that's what I've been doing all summer: obsessing over Hetalia) and especially the Hetalia Kink Meme. SO FAIL CHAPTER IS FAIL. I assure you I didn't try particularly hard on this. xD

Is it just me, or are these chapters getting longer and longer? (Don't answer that; they are.) I'M GOING TO BE PUT INTO A RAGE IF FF SMASHES ALL OF MY WORDS TOGETHER AGAIN. :/

This chapter is really bipolar.

---o0o---

The next four weeks passed Umehito and Kyouya by like a dream. Their relationship had grown, budded like a flower and had even worked out a routine of sorts. Like any love-sick teenage couple, they wanted to spend as much time with the other as they could, but this was not always possible due to conflicting schedules and the fact that they couldn't be seen together in public.

It went without saying that there would be grave consequences to someone finding out about them because, not only would their relationship be frowned upon, Kyouya was supposed to be in a relationship with someone else. A fairly well known someone else.

So they were content to continue to spend time together in the second auditorium or kiss in one of the prop rooms during lunch break. Needless to say, they spent more time in the prop rooms than they ever did in the auditorium. What time wasn't spent together was spent through texting or through discreet phone calls, if possible. Their relationship continued to sail and the only damper in Nekozawa's happy life was still his sister.

Her health had steadily begun to decline, which was baffling for something that shouldn't have been as serious as it was. But because the illness was a virus, there wasn't much else they could do but to watch her slowly deteriorate and wait for the virus to make itself inactive.

Nekozawa himself hadn't fully comprehended how sick his sister was until he visited her one evening. Kirimi had been lethargic the previous days, but when he visited her, she was strangely wide awake.

"Are you feeling better?" He asked, a little hopeful that she wasn't in as much pain, as he brushed aside her hair with those latex gloves.

But she flinched away from the contact, staring at him with wide sapphire eyes that were questioning and confused. Then she looked around the room, frantically searching for something and pulled her stuffed bear closer to her body.

"Where's niisama…?" She asked, her eyes beginning to water in the way that they did whenever she was frightened. Nekozawa's chest grew heavy, pained, because part of him realized what exactly was happening, but he didn't want to believe it.

"I'm right here Kirimi-chan…" he moved closer to her, but she scooted further away and hugged the bear tighter.

"No, I want _niisama_," her tears began to fall and Nekozawa's throat constricted with the realization, but no, it couldn't be true, he told himself, unable to believe otherwise.

"I'm right _here_," he practically begged her to realize, but she still called for her brother, crying and looking in the opposite direction. She didn't recognize her real brother any longer.

Umehito stood there, shell-shocked, hoping that this was all some sort of nightmare. His sister didn't know who he was; he hadn't felt this horrible since the night of her seizure. _No_…he felt at least ten times worse.

He wasn't aware of much else in the moment, but the stinging in his eyes, the burning of his throat, and the deep ache in his heart. There was nothing he could do but to watch his sister in her delusions, unaware that who she called for was right beside her.

Nekozawa didn't hear the door behind him close and was somewhat startled to feel Kyouya's hand slip into his. He looked up and wondered how long the brunet was standing there, but the somber look in those granite eyes told enough. Kyouya had heard most of, if not all of, the conversation. It looked like he wanted to say something, but couldn't find the words (what does one say in that type of situation?) so he simply settled for squeezing the blonde's hand harder, reassuringly.

It helped. Nekozawa still felt utterly horrible, but the notion that he wasn't in it alone made him feel a little more hopeful. He briefly wondered what Kyouya was doing there, but decided that it didn't matter. His lover's hand was enough. They both held hands quietly, the only sound in the room being the magnitude of his little sister's cries.

It was later explained to Nekozawa that the swelling of Kirimi's brain had caused the brain damage that they feared and had tried to prevent. She didn't recognize him any longer because she had a preconceived notion of who her brother was (the Prince) and with her dwindling mental capacity, that image was all that remained in place of reality.

Basically, it was as if the host club's intervention had never happened and Nekozawa was once again the monster his sister feared. Sometimes it wasn't so bad. There were days that she recognized him, but others he would have to watch her from the doorway or while she was sleeping because he would have to leave if she saw him; it caused her that much distress.

Thankfully, his parents had returned and Kuretake was back from her vacation, so he was no longer the only one to check up on her. And that was good, because in Kirimi's condition, she deserved to be around people that she felt comfortable with and not someone she feared, like him.

Nekozawa tried not to let it bother him, he really did, but it felt like as soon as he had found happiness and peace with his sister, it was snatched ruthlessly away from him. The only thing that kept him from falling into pits of despair was Kyouya, who was calm and patient as always.

He constantly reminded Nekozawa (as though he could read the blonde's mind) that it wasn't his fault and there was nothing about him personally that caused Kirimi's reaction to him. She loved him before because she saw what a great older brother he was and she had simply forgotten that. Nekozawa wondered how he could possibly handle this without the brunet there with him, keeping him sane. Kyouya's, on the other hand, life was going in a much smoother direction.

He had had that dinner date with Kameko and it surprisingly went well, as far as going on dates with people you aren't attracted to can go. Her clothing was remarkably classy for someone who often dressed so risqué (a simple red number that was sleek and geometrically cut) and the only physical contact she initiated was to hold hands and to kiss him good night on the cheek.

In fact, her whole demeanor seemed to be less overbearingly sexual as it was before (bar her clothing) and while she did occasionally kiss him, the flirting had halted to just inappropriate puns and the occasional wink. Unlike before, which was filled with enough touching and flirting to make him decidedly uncomfortable, especially now that he had a boyfriend.

Ironically enough, the lack of flirting had Kyouya somewhat worried, because if she had stopped flirting because she lost interest, it was bad news for him. Terribly bad. Kameko had even shortened his visits to three days a week because she "needed space to do other stuff" which was both a blessing and a curse.

A blessing, because it allowed _him_ to do other activities like spend time with Nekozawa and Kirimi (who oddly still remembered him as "Glasses character"), co-budget the host club's funds (which was being handled by Haruhi in his absence, bless her soul; he would have to take a huge chunk out of her debt) and trade/buy/sell stocks. Plus, the three days a week that he did visit were conveniently days that Kameko's father was home for dinner.

On the down side, the week shortenings were just further evidence of her lessening attraction. He tried to appeal by taking her on various dates (her love of theatre was something to be noted), and flowering her in lavish gifts, but that seemed to work only so far.

Who he spent the most time praising, however, was Kameko's father, an average sized man by the name of Taro that Kyouya could tell was once a cunning, innovative man in the technology field, but now he was just middle-aged and seemed weary of the world.

He was especially soft-mannered in comparison to his extremely bold daughter and, honestly, he just seemed pleased that Kyouya appeared to want Kameko in ways that didn't just involve having sex with her (aka, the type of guys she normally went for). It wasn't worded that bluntly, but the sentiments were still there.

It made Kyouya wonder if she acted and dressed the way she did to purposely give her father a heart attack. But whatever the reason, Kyouya still found himself failing to figure out the girl's change in behavior. He also found himself feeling a little ridiculous because he didn't even like her that way, but his father expected nothing but success from him and Kyouya would be damned if he didn't pull through.

--o0o--

"You need to relax," Nekozawa murmured to him in the darkness of the auditorium. It was true for both of them, actually. Neither of their lives had ever been so hectic.

Kyouya gave the blonde a look that said, 'That isn't in my vocabulary,' and Nekozawa sighed, suddenly reminded of how stubborn Kyouya really was.

"You're going to work yourself to death, Ohtori-kun, and not even I'll be able to save you."

Both of them knew that he really didn't have a choice in the matter, but a distraction was a distraction, so Kyouya played along with the banter.

"Not even you?" He asked with an amused smile, hollow, a sign of how tired he really was.

"Do you have some sort of power made for saving me?"

Nekozawa grinned. "Of course. What kind of lover would I be without one?"

That was one of the differences between them. Umehito liked to dramatically refer to them as being lovers, despite them never having made love (a topic that came up, but both of them realized that they weren't ready emotionally for something like that), while Kyouya politely referred to them as partners. However, both of the boys had agreed that "boyfriend" sounded too teenage girl-esque.

"A shoddy one," Kyouya replied back, of course joking.

"Exactly."

"And what might this power be, if you don't mind me asking?"

Nekozawa grinned again. "The power of amazing massages."

The answer was so unexpected and absurd that Kyouya actually laughed. It was short, clipped sound, a sign that he hadn't done it in a while, but Umehito crossed his arms and frowned, indignant.

"You wouldn't laugh if you knew how amazing my massages are."

Seeing that Nekozawa was actually serious, Kyouya quieted his laughter to a few chuckles and coughed, trying to hide his smile.

"Of course. Care to demonstrate?"

Nekozawa gave him a look that said, 'Just because you laughed, no,' but slowly he let up and sighed.

"Fine. Turn around and take off your jacket."

Kyouya did so and soon found his senpai's hands on his shoulders, beginning to work through the many knots of tension in his back. And only when he did, did Nekozawa realize just how tense his lover's back really was. Frowning, he applied more pressure than he did initially.

"Do you sleep on bricks, Ohtori-kun?"

Kyouya smiled wryly. "Something like that."

But soon, the knots of tension began to melt away and Kyouya began to melt with it. He had to admit; Nekozawa did give a damn good massage. His back was slowly feeling better than it had in weeks and all of the problems that he had been dealing with managed to quiet themselves to whispers in the back of his mind.

It was almost like the magic that Nekozawa so faithfully believed in and Kyouya felt like he could get caught in it all day. The gentle but firm motions against his back, he felt were nothing short of miraculous and the lower the hands moved, the more Kyouya found pleasure tingling in other places. It grew the longer it went on and, caught up in his thoughts, he almost missed the soft murmur of Nekozawa's voice. At first, Kyouya assumed the blonde was saying something, but upon listening closer he realized he was singing and it wasn't in Japanese.

"Rastsvetali yabloni i grushi,  
poplýli tumani nad rekoi,  
výkhadyila na byereg Katyusha,  
na výsoki byereg, na krutoi…"

It sounded like a lullaby and Kyouya didn't recognize the language but he assumed, from previous conversations, that it was in Russian.

"Výkhadyila, pyesnyu zavodyila,  
pro stepnovo, sizovo orla,  
pro tavo, katorovo lubyila,  
pro tavo, tshi pyisma beregla…"

It put a pleasant tingle down Kyouya's spine. He didn't know why it did, but he had never heard Umehito speak in a different language and the way his deep voice rolled over the complex syllables; it felt more than a little nice. Combined with the magical hands now working through the tense wall that was his lower back, Kyouya was in the closest he thought he'd achieve to heaven. He closed his eyes as Nekozawa's hands rubbed him expertly, easing away more tension and his voice soothed over Kyouya's senses.

"Oi, tý pyesnya, pyesen'ka dyevitshya,  
tý leti za yasným sontsem vsled  
i boitsu na dalnem pogranyitshi  
ot Katyushi pyeredai privyet..."

But the picture of heaven wasn't perfect. There was something decidedly sad in Nekozawa's voice as he softly sang a song that Kyouya could only assume was meant to be happy. It was strange, like he was living in a melancholic memory from a long time ago and a small, concerned frown grew on Kyouya's face.

"Pust' on vspomnit dyevushku prastuyu,  
pust' uslýshit, kak ana payot,  
pust' on zemlu byerezhot radnuyu -  
a lyubov Katyusha zbyerezhot…"

Kyouya opened his eyes when the hands stilled on his hips but the singing didn't halt. In fact, he could clearly hear it now, the sad undertone in Umehito's voice and he shivered when he felt the blonde move closer to nudge his nose against the nape of Kyouya's neck and tighten his arms almost possessively around Kyouya's waist.

He felt another pleasurable chill go up his spine, feeling the heat of the blonde's breath against his neck. The hands on his hips were warm and suddenly, Kyouya wanted nothing more than to make whatever caused the sadness in Nekozawa's voice go away.

The song slowed to a halt and Kyouya felt the atmosphere darken. There was a moment of heavy silence; something was affecting Nekozawa, he knew, but there was a strange wall between them. He cleared his throat and eventually asked, "Was that Russian?" finding no other way to broach the subject head on. He felt Nekozawa move his head in a silent nod.

"Yes. My mother used to sing it to me when I was little and I sang it to Kirimi when she was first born."

Oh. That was why he sounded so sad. Kyouya put his hands atop the ones on his waist, reassuringly.

"Tell me about your sister. The best moments with her," he said, thinking it might make the blonde's mood better if he focused on more positive things.

Nekozawa chuckled, but it was a faraway sound like the song which told Kyouya that he was thinking of the past.

"She's something else. Fierce for someone so tiny."

Kyouya nodded with a small smile, remembering when she interrupted the host club in search of her "prince."

"After the host club helped, we sometimes would play hide and seek together, with her somehow always managing to be the hider," he laughed.

"She was strangely good at hiding too. Sometimes it would be an hour before I found her tucked away in some obscure cabinet in the wing that isn't really occupied. She would sometimes fall asleep and I would carry her back to her room and sing a lullaby if she woke up."

Kyouya could tell that the distraction had lightened the mood and when Nekozawa removed his hands, he turned around, pleased to see a slight smile on Nekozawa's face.

"Thank you," Nekozawa said softly, something odd dancing in his eyes. Kyouya nodded, he understood what the blonde meant, and Nekozawa soon drew him in for a kiss.

It was strange, not at all like their previous kisses, which were often passionate and fiery. This was soft, tender, almost breakable, and when Nekozawa pulled back, his eyes were clouded in something even stranger. He placed a kiss over top of Kyouya's hand and pressed it to his face, before whispering into Kyouya's palm,

"I love you."

And something in Kyouya froze.

Out of all the things he thought the blonde could have said in the moment, that was not it and, even worse, he didn't know how to reply back (Did he truly love the blonde?). He had been struck mute, suddenly swept by multiple flashbacks of his childhood, each of them telling him that love either didn't exist or was completely useless, because he could always get over it, he could forget.

But Nekozawa saw that hesitation, which was more telling than anything the brunet could have said, and dropped Kyouya's hand with a small sigh. He should have known.

"I'm—"

"No, I get it." The blonde's smile was sad.

"It's okay."

But both of them could tell that it was a lie. Neither of them commented on it, though, because both of them neither wanted to or needed to fight. Not right then. Shortly after, the bell rang, parting the stifling silence, and both of them went their opposite ways, trying to erase the memory from their minds.

--o0o--

To make Kyouya's mood even worse from the blunder in the auditorium (his mind was still reeling from the question of whether or not he loved the blonde), it was also one of the days of the week that Kyouya had to visit Kameko.

He really didn't need that right then.

She led him into her room again, as she often did, but then she did something she hadn't done in a long time. She kissed him. Fully on the lips like she used to, tongue and all, and Kyouya had no choice but to once again kiss back. His mood continued to plummet.

Not only could he not tell his partner that he loved him, he was quite blatantly (however unwillingly) cheating on him. Nekozawa had to be the most patient lover, to put up with someone like him.

"Ohtori-kun?"

Kyouya looked up. They had long separated and she was sitting on a love-seat a distance away, with a book in her lap and she wore a pensive expression.

"Yes?"

She paused and tilted her head to the side.

"Are you gay?"

Kyouya blinked. He opened his mouth to reply, but nothing of the sort came to him. Then he blinked again, still not sure if he heard the question correctly.

"Excuse me?"

She shifted a little and set her book aside.

"I asked if you were gay. I mean, it's okay if you are, it's just been driving me crazy trying to figure it out."

Kyouya wondered briefly if he should actually tell the truth (how did she even arrive at that conclusion, anyway?), but honesty really wasn't one of his strong points.

"No, I'm not."

And for some reason that made her smile grow wider. She got up, sat beside him, and laughed, but it was a different sounding laugh than he had ever heard from her.

"Don't lie to me Ohtori-kun." She brushed aside his bangs, but the action felt more belittling than affectionate.

"It isn't in your best interest to."

And Kyouya knew that something about the scene was very, very off. He weighed his options of lying again and actually telling the truth, as much as it pained him. Kameko seemed very adamant about what was actually true, so if he further denied it, he wasn't sure she would even believe him or would take it well. In fact, she seemed to be threatening him.

He decided to tread the waters carefully.

"How did you find out?" He asked, fighting the urge to turn away, because he wasn't entirely comfortable with his sexuality being out in the open like this.

"It wasn't hard to tell that you aren't attracted to me, Ohtori-kun," she smiled wistfully.

"I've given you plenty of opportunities to do whatever you wanted with me and you took none."

"I could just be a gentlemen," Kyouya immediately quipped, though he wasn't sure why.

"Even gentlemen look, Ohtori-kun."

Kyouya wasn't sure how to respond to that, so he sat quietly, running the information rapidly through his mind. Then he asked,

"What do you want?" Certain that her discovery could be used as blackmail and he'd rather get it over with. Kameko actually looked surprised.

"I don't want anything."

"Then why confront me about this? If you already knew, you have no reason to keep me here," he said, thinking about the absolute rage his father would go through when he told him the deal was off. He hoped that he had buttered up her father enough to change his opinion about Ohtori relations. He would have one last chance tonight at dinner if she called the whole thing all.

She smiled, "Because I like you. And because it makes our daddies happy. Your father sees this as a chance to exploit our technology and my father likes that I'm in a sensible relationship," she made a face, like the thought disturbed her. "Ugh."

Kameko must have caught the look he was giving her, because she laughed again.

"What? I'm not as stupid as you think I am, Ohtori-kun." She stood and went back over to the love-seat where her book lay forgotten. There was a pause and then,

"…Why?"

"Hm?"

"Why do you do all of this?" He gestured to her clothing (skimpy as usual) and her room décor (stuffed animals, pink, and posters).

"Because being unassuming is easy and it's suits my purposes."

"And what might those purposes be? If you don't mind me asking."

She winked, "That's for me to know, and you to find out."

Well, that was helpful. He was about to reach into his pocket for his phone (he wanted to see if Nekozawa had texted him) because it was quite obvious that any romantic relationship between him and Kameko was a joke, when a thought occurred to him.

"If you've known I wasn't attracted to you all this time, why did you…" He searched for a more polite way to say 'force yourself on me.'

"Why did you continue to pursue romantic physical contact?"

She laughed. "Oh, that was just to screw with you."

Kyouya sat there, mouth pressed into a thin, annoyed line, unsure of whether he should be enraged because she caused him so much mental anguish or relieved that she wasn't serious in her advances.

"Anyway, I think dinner's about to start." She brushed aside his annoyance or the possibility that he would be annoyed quite easily and stood.

"You mean you still want to continue this?"

"Of course. This relationship is profitable to both of us, right?"

Kyouya blinked, and then nodded. That word sounded so strange coming from her mouth.

"Yes, it is," his voice was clipped and precise, no doubt new calculations coming forth on how to deal with this total 180.

"So we should go downstairs, yeah?"

He nodded again and they both made their way to her door. This was going to be an interesting dinner, Kyouya told himself. Even more, it was the start of a very strange relationship between them.

"Hey, Ohtori-kun, do you have a boyfriend?"

A very, very long relationship.

---o0o---

Authoress Note: And thus, the true faghag nature of Kameko is revealed. xDD I'm loving her bluntness more and more. Congrats to WhenYourHeartGivesIn for realizing Kameko has known Kyouya was gay since a few chapters ago.

Oh, and the Russian. That's actually a folk song, not a lullaby, but shush. I was originally going to use the Cossack lullaby, but it sounded too sad on its own. The song I chose sounds really sad too, but it isn't as awkward to think about singing to a girl (uh, Kirimi, not Kyouya). It's called "Katyusha" and can be heard and translated here if FF doesn't screw up the link (take out spaces and quotation marks):

www .kaikracht ".de/balalaika/english/songs/katy _mel" .html

So yeah. That was really cold Kyouya, not telling your boyfriend you love him. Shame on you. He needs to realize that BEING GAY IS OKAY.

That totally deserves a review, right there. 8D


	10. Quid Pro Quo

Warnings: Angst, a lot of kissing and some references to sex

Disclaimer: I don't own Ouran.

Authoress Note: Oh god, guys. I'm sooo sorry. The Hetalia kink meme just sucked me in like a hole (I've written about twenty things for it) and I was in two plays this semester and my college English class and-and...I'm sorry for such a long wait. I fail, I know I do. =( I hope some of you are still there. For a quick recap for those of you who don't want to go back over everything: Kyouya and Nekozawa are together, but Kyouya is unable to tell Nekozawa he loves him, my OC Kameko realized that Kyouya is gay, and Kirimi's still in pretty bad condition.

Coincidentally (even though this chapter is mostly character expansion stuff) this still tops the length of the previous chapter. There is something wrong with me, there really is.

-o0o-

A week passed and Kyouya still found himself feeling all out of sorts from that scene in the auditorium. Nekozawa never brought it up, sure, but Kyouya had learned that the boy had some strange passive-aggressive tendencies. For all Kyouya knew, Umehito was sincerely upset at him, but wouldn't say anything until the event was almost forgotten and would call Kyouya out on it, making him feel like a horrible boyfriend. Which Kyouya already felt like, so it wouldn't surprise him if that plan was already in effect.

…No. _No_.

Nekozawa wasn't normally a scheming type, he wasn't like Kyouya. But that was the whole problem, wasn't it?

Nekozawa wasn't like Kyouya, he didn't carry the emotional baggage the other did and was far more trusting than Kyouya could ever be. Which is why he was able to say, "I love you," and Kyouya was struck with nothing in response. Which is why Kyouya was left mentally berating himself, thinking of how much he had screwed this whole thing up.

It wasn't that he didn't care the blonde; he truly did, but…

But what?

Kyouya was at a loss as to why he couldn't say it. Perhaps some paranoid part of him was still wary of getting too close to someone. Perhaps he just didn't love the blonde. Perhaps he just didn't know what love was.

Kyouya was starting to wish that Umehito would yell at him or something, because then he would have a reason for this guilt. But no, Nekozawa was gentle, patient, telling him it was okay that he couldn't say it, but it wasn't. He wondered how Nekozawa could possibly not be angry or upset at him and didn't know what to think when he received a text message on Friday.

_/Come to my place after school./_

Which was as about as vague as a message could be, troubling too. Kyouya had never been to Nekozawa's place (his beach home didn't count) and didn't see a reason to suddenly be there now.

Of course, since he learned that Kameko didn't take dating him seriously, it meant that he had more time for the blonde. She herself had said he could drop visits whenever he wanted if he needed to visit a special someone (he hadn't told her about Nekozawa, but somehow she had figured out he was in a relationship; he needed to be more careful around her), so there was no reason that he couldn't be there now.

But still, it gave him a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach. After all, he had never been to Nekozawa's house before and there they would likely be alone for extended amounts of time and that thought made the strange feeling grow worse. He didn't know if Nekozawa wanted him there to talk or to do more private things and if it was the latter, he wasn't sure if he could control himself.

The thought had been on his mind for awhile now and while he wanted it, he didn't think they were ready.

With a sigh, he dug out his cell phone and confirmed the visit. Then, he texted Kameko to tell her he wouldn't come to her house that afternoon. She responded almost immediately.

_/Oh hot date?/_

He wasn't even going to reply to that. He put his phone back into his pocket and dreaded the visit as much as he anticipated it.

-o0o-

The whole car ride to Nekozawa's mansion, Kyouya, though he would never admit it, was a fidgeting mess. He took a deep breath when he stepped out of his limousine once he had reached his destination and his fingers tapped impatiently against his thigh once he rang the doorbell.

The door opened to reveal Nekozawa himself who smiled and quickly pulled Kyouya in for a kiss. Just when Kyouya got over his shock, the blonde pulled away just as quickly as he had grabbed him. Kyouya raised an eyebrow.

"The help gossips," he explained. His eyes were bright and they scanned the room suspiciously. "I'd prefer if my parents found out about our relationship from me and not some chatty maid. So," he backed up with a grin, taking in the full sight of Kyouya, "welcome to my humble abode."

Before the brunet could say anything, Nekozawa leaned back in to press their foreheads together and murmured, "Now, quickly, let's go back to my room before anyone sees us."

That very sentence caused Kyouya's heart to beat faster. They were going to his room? Kyouya didn't know if the thought made him excited or uneasy. Nonetheless, he followed the blonde to his bedroom.

He was somehow unsurprised when Nekozawa opened the door and it was completely dark. Then, the boy clapped his hands twice and, either by some magic or electrical trickery (Kyouya assumed the latter) candles that were scattered throughout the room lit.

It wasn't much light, but it was enough to see the general décor of the room. There was a dark canopy over Nekozawa's bed, which was covered in equally dark sheets. There was a dresser or two and other furniture, but Kyouya didn't pay much attention, because Nekozawa was dragging Kyouya forward by his hand to the bed and his heart started to race.

"I want to play a game."

That…wasn't at all what Kyouya expected Nekozawa to say. "A game?"

Nekozawa sat on the bed and indicated for the other to follow, so Kyouya did.

"Yes, a game. And I'll make it easier for you," he grinned before shifting and pulling his cloak off and his wig with it. The room was still dim, so Kyouya couldn't see very well, but he could make out the semi-long golden hair of the other and wished he had a chance to see it more often. He also wondered what they were about to do that required Nekozawa to take off his cloak.

"What exactly does this game consist of?"

"Simple: you are going to kiss me."

Somehow, that didn't appease Kyouya. He raised a slender eyebrow.

"Pardon?" He asked, knowing that this only made Nekozawa's grin grow brighter.

"I said…" the blonde moved in slowly and Kyouya expected the other's lips on his. What he didn't expect, however, was his glasses being yanked off of his face. Then Umehito clapped again, rendering the room in complete darkness.

"You are going to kiss me."

Kyouya paused, running the request through his mind with a frown. "How do you expect me to kiss you when I can't even see you?"

Which was true. Without his glasses, he couldn't even hope for some semblance of night vision. He might as well as had his eyes closed.

"That's the challenge," Nekozawa answered, his voice sounding a lot farther away for some reason. Kyouya's frown deepened and he wondered if this was all punishment for the other day. Not being in control was one of Kyouya's biggest peeves (and who was he kidding; he had no power completely sightless) and not being able to see was an even bigger one. He knew Umehito couldn't have known the second one, but he still paused, waiting for the blonde to turn back on the "lights" and declare this all a joke.

He didn't.

Kyouya sighed and moved forward, literally guessing where he thought the blonde might be, but was met with a shake in the bed that told him Nekozawa had moved slightly.

"It isn't exactly fair if you move."

"I never said I couldn't. Try again."

This had to be punishment.

Kyouya reached out again, in the direction of the other's voice and this time managed to touch the other's hand. Nekozawa didn't respond, so Kyouya moved closer until their thighs were touching and slowly dragged his hand up the blonde's arm, across his shoulder blade, and to the brief expansion of pale skin that was his neck.

He felt a pulse underneath his fingertips and wondered if it was is blindness that allowed him to notice the calming lull of the other's breathing.

His hand slid up further, across his slender jaw and finally brushed against Umehito's lips.

_Finally._

Kyouya smirked and, using his fingers as guidance, leaned in and pressed their mouths together, completing his task. It was a short, simple touch of the lips, but it helped Kyouya understand the purpose of the "game."

Not only was it the first time they had each been rid of their shields (Umehito's cloak and wig and Kyouya's glasses), but Kyouya had just given ultimate control to the other, something that he thought he would never do, no matter the circumstance. Nekozawa had pretty much told him: You can still trust me even if you can't say you love me.

He gave a final, grateful peck to the other's lips and murmured, "Thank you," before pulling away.

"Don't thank me yet, I've got one more game to play." Nekozawa clapped again, twice, and the dim candle light returned. By that Kyouya could see the other's grin and, after giving Kyouya back his glasses, he moved from sitting on the bed's side to lying flat, his head resting on a pillow.

"Oh?" Kyouya followed, trying to pretend that lying down like that didn't put suggestions in the back of his mind.

"Yes, though I'm sure you won't thank me for this. In fact, I'm certain that you'll hate it.

Kyouya sighed and rolled over so he was directly facing the blonde. "What game is it?"

"Quid pro quo. It's simple: you ask me a question, I ask you a question…"

Nekozawa was right; that did sound like something Kyouya would hate. But he couldn't back out; he had to show Nekozawa that he did trust him, he owed him that much.

"Alright," he answered, because he didn't have much of a choice.

"But you can always decline a question if you want to. Do you want to go first?"

"Sure. I'll start with something easy; what is your exact ethnicity?"

Nekozawa grinned. "I was expecting that to come up sooner or later. You see, my great, great grandfather moved from Russia to Japan and my father (who is ¼ Russian) married my full Russia mother."

"That explains your accent…"

"Alright, what are the names and ages of your siblings?"

Kyouya sighed. "My oldest brother's, who's thirty, name is Yuuichi. My sister, whose name is Fuyumi is twenty seven and Akito, my other brother, is twenty four. Was Russian or Japanese your first language?"

"A mix of both, actually. My mother was still learning Japanese around the time I learned to talk, so I picked up both languages. You know, it's funny; I learned it faster, so there would be these strange moments where she doesn't know a word and will describe the object to me for ten minutes in a mix of Russian and Japanese." Nekozawa shook his head with a little laugh. "So, why did you join the host club?"

"Well, initially, it was because my father ordered me to befriend Tamaki, but that idiot is so magnetic. It's hard not to want to help him." Kyouya shifted on the bed as so did the seriousness of the questions. "When did you first realize you liked guys?" He asked quietly, knowing it was personal. "You've never said much about your sexuality."

At this, Nekozawa remained strangely quiet as a flush made its way to his face.

"…_Well_?"

"Do…Do I have to answer that?" He bit his lip, hoping for an affirmative.

"Come on now, it can't be that bad."

Yes. Yes it was. It was humiliating, but Nekozawa sighed and quickly muttered, "ItwasSuoh," to get it over with. There was a moment of shocked silence.

"Excuse me?" Kyouya barely hid the amusement in his voice.

"I said it was Suoh. The first guy I ever liked was Suoh Tamaki." Umehito turned away, his cheeks burning even brighter.

"Seriously?"

"Yes, seriously. You said it yourself; he's magnetic. When he first arrived, he was just so different than anyone I had ever met before. He was so earnest. Then I found out he was an idiot, so that attraction quickly died."

Nekozawa turned back and it looked like Kyouya was still fighting off amusement. He frowned.

"Alright then, who was your first crush?"

"It isn't anyone you know. He moved when I was thirteen," Kyouya smiled faintly, but it was miles away from his eyes and Umehito knew he had breeched a sore subject.

"His name was Hagino Jumei." There was a pause where Nekozawa expected the other to elaborate, but the subject suddenly changed.

"What are you parents like? I've never met them."

Nekozawa frowned pensively, trying to think of a way to describe the eccentric pair. "Have you ever seen the American television show _The Addam's Family_?"

"I've heard of it, yes."

"Well, my parents are kind of like the parents there. Only slightly less flamboyant and more concerned with business than romance."

Kyouya was certain that he heard a bitter undercurrent there.

"What about your parents? I know a little about your father, but I've never heard anything about your mother."

Kyouya stiffened and even in the dim light, Umehito could see the hardened glaze over the other's eyes. He turned away, realizing his mistake.

"I'm sorry, you don't have to answer that. I'll—"

"No, it's alright." There was something decidedly brittle in Kyouya's voice. It made Umehito wish that he had never said anything.

"I don't want there to be any secrets between us. I'd probably end up tell you anyway." That was a lie. That was quite clearly a lie, but Kyouya was determined to tell the truth for once, determined to show Nekozawa that he could trust him, even if he couldn't say he loved him.

Kyouya rolled over so his back was flat on the mattress and he stared up at the dark canopy above with a sigh. He hadn't even told Tamaki this.

"When I was twelve, my mother committed suicide."

Something clenched horribly in Nekozawa's chest and he reached out for his lover's hand, sympathetic, and really wishing he hadn't asked.

"I'm sorry," he offered softly.

"No, it's okay…" Kyouya swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat. "I didn't know her very well." Nekozawa paused.

"Are you sure?"

Kyouya made a vain attempt to smile, but it was bitter around the edges. "Yeah, it's fine."

What Kyouya didn't say was that he was in the house when she killed herself (a self-shooting) and still suffered nightmares from seeing her body shortly after. They weren't nearly as frequent as they where when she first did it, but it still crept into his subconscious occasionally.

"So it's my turn, right?"

Nekozawa nodded, knowing that it would be a particularly difficult question that Kyouya would ask. It was only fair after all.

"Alright then…why are you afraid of light?" The blonde almost laughed; he had somehow expected that.

"Henh, are you sure you want to know?" Kyouya gave a slight nod and Umehito sighed, sitting up. It was such a long story.

"When I was born, I was incredibly pale, almost albino pale. In fact, it was only a few years ago that I started to get color," he smiled wryly and Kyouya tried to picture him even paler than he was currently.

"I was also very sickly and my parents never let me out of their sight. One day, when I was three, they weren't paying attention and, because I was so adamant about seeing the thing they were trying to protect me from, I went outside. I wandered around our estate and eventually got lost. I-I don't remember much after that, just that I was in a lot of pain. When I came to, I was in the hospital, suffering from severe sun poisoning and I was just surrounded by all this light. I couldn't take it; everything, including the light hurt and-and I've been afraid of it ever since."

Kyouya stayed silent for awhile, processing the information. Clearly Nekozawa's fear wasn't as irrational as he initially thought it to be, which meant it could be cured, so to speak.

"How does your light system work? Is there electricity in here?" He asked, dropping the pretense of the question game.

"Isn't it cool?" Nekozawa grinned, "You clap twice to turn the candles on and off. Three times for an electrical light on the ceiling for emergencies, but I never turn it on."

Kyouya nodded, but didn't respond, opting to move over to straddle the other. His knees were on either side of the blonde's waist and he didn't even try to pretend it wasn't suggestive. Umehito grinned, but his blush gave him away.

"Why?"

Kyouya leaned down and kissed the other on the cheek before pulling his hands above his head.

"No reason," he lied and kissed Umehito again, on the lips. It wasn't soft, speaking of restrained passion. When the kiss broke, Nekozawa looked up at the other, his blue eyes half-lidded with want and he smiled, dazed. That is, until Kyouya sat up a little and quickly clapped three times, before clamping down in his wrists again.

The blonde's first response to the sudden light was to shriek in surprise. He tried to move his body to shelter, by way of his cloak or covers, but Kyouya was heavy on his middle and his hands were held down firmly.

"Nekozawa…_Nekozawa_," Kyouya called, trying to get his boyfriend's attention, but the other's eyes were closed. The blonde frantically shook his head back and forth, squirming, trying to escape it all.

"No, no, _no,_" he cried, frightened, and his mind was filled with a flood of panic. His mind was telling him to move, that he was in pain, why was this happening and oh god, the light, oh god, the light, hewasinpainthelight_thelight_.

"Nekozawa!" Kyouya called again, but the blonde was still unresponsive and hysterical, still very presently panicking. Finding no other option, Kyouya grabbed the boy's chin and forced Nekozawa to face him.

"Umehito!" It caught his attention. The blonde slowly opened his tear-filled eyes, although he was still struggling against the other.

"Look at me," Kyouya commanded calmly. "Look at me."

Nekozawa did.

"Now breathe. Take a deep breath." The blonde obeyed, some semblance of relief filling him as the air filled his lungs and Kyouya kept repeating his instructions. "Look at me, look at me. Breathe, _breathe_," and once the blonde's breathing had slowed down enough, once he had calmed down enough, Kyouya let go of the boy's chin.

"Nothing is hurting you right now; it's all your imagination. Keep looking at me. Nothing else exists, okay?" He leaned down to press a small kiss to the other's forehead, and Nekozawa followed the action, confused.

"There isn't anything here but us. You're perfectly fine, there's nothing wrong." Kyouya's voice was soothing and Nekozawa stopped struggling, entranced. "Breathe, keep looking at me, _breathe_. Nothing can hurt you while I'm here. Nothing. Keep breathing, keep looking at me."

He loosened his grip on Nekozawa's hands, leaning back down to kiss him on the mouth, a full, sensual kiss. When the blonde kissed back, Kyouya let got of his wrists completely and enjoyed how Nekozawa used his newly freed arms to wrap around the brunet's neck. After a few moments, the kiss broke, and Kyouya moved to kiss the shell of the other's ear. Their bodies were still pressed together.

"Are you okay?" Kyouya whispered before tugging at Nekozawa's earlobe with his teeth.

Nekozawa gasped, moving his head to the side to give Kyouya better access. "Yeah…just…" His gaze moved from the canopy to his room, where it was still bright from the light overhead. At the sight of it, something caught in his throat and he felt the panic beginning to set in again. His chest hurt, tightening so much he couldn't breathe.

"N-_no_." It was too bright, far too bright. It was starting to hurt his skin again, it was too bright. He was in painwhywasitso_bright_?

"No, no, no…" he shook his head frantically, squirming, fully back in panic, trying to push Kyouya off of him.

"No, no, stop, get off!" Kyouya grabbed his hands again, but it set the blonde off, who was now fully hysterical with fear and imagined pain.

"No! Let go of me!" He kicked, wrenching his eyes shut against the brightness, and Kyouya got off of him, fearing Nekozawa might hurt himself or both of them.

Once he was off, he clapped again and the room was shrouded in darkness with the exception of the candles.

A sinking feeling of self-loathing filled Kyouya's core and he watched as Nekozawa lay still, his arms over his head, his breath still coming heavy and ragged. Then he heard a shuddering sigh, a broken off part of a sob, and he felt even worse.

"I…apologize. It was wrong of me to try that," he said quietly.

Once Nekozawa composed himself—he wiped the dampness from his eyes—he shook his head.

"No, it's alright. You…You were only trying to help."

"But—"

"It's okay," Nekozawa insisted and Kyouya knew that it didn't bother the other as much. He still couldn't push down the feelings guilt, though, especially when Nekozawa's hand sought out his. He really didn't deserve the other.

They both lay in silence, the game forgotten, with Nekozawa's thumb idly tracing over the back of Kyouya's hand. It was a calming silence, not awkward, and on a brief impulse, Kyouya leaned over and kissed him, slow and smooth. It was more of an apology than anything and Nekozawa accepted, changing their previous roles, by straddling the other's hips.

Kyouya could feel that thrumming through his veins again, but he resisted, closing his eyes and relishing in the feel of Nekozawa's cool hands cupping his face. He sucked on the other's bottom lip, biting it before the blonde pulled away with a strangled noise in his throat.

They stared at each other. There was something dark, dangerous, and invigorating flashing through Umehito's eyes.

"I want you," he blurted, his voice breathy yet thick and Kyouya blinked, surprised.

"Really?" He asked, because this statement was so much more different than what they had said when they first got together.

"Yeah," he sighed. "Y-yeah, I really do." Kyouya shut his eyes again to calm down his rioting hormones.

"You don't know how hard it is for me to hear that," he replied, almost apologetically, because even if they both wanted it, they couldn't do anything about right then. At least not all the way.

"So you…?" Umehito didn't have to say it aloud because they both knew that Kyouya knew what he was talking about.

"Yes," Kyouya admitted, and his breath was stolen when Nekozawa kissed his neck, because it was like he was saying, "It's okay."

"God," the blonde murmured hotly against his kin. "I thought I was the only one." And Kyouya had to restrain himself because this was heading into dangerous territory.

"No, but…I can't. We can't. Not now."

"When?" A kiss to his ear, "Soon?"

"I don't know. I think…the next time. Whenever we both feel this way and we're together like this, then yes. Next time."

Nekozawa nodded and got off after a final kiss. They would wait, and it was that thought that filled each of their minds as they lay next to each other in peaceful silence.

- -o0o- -

A couple of days later, Umehito found himself sitting in front of his sister's bed while she slept. She had been sleeping more and more lately, becoming weaker each day. Sometimes she wasn't even cognizant, not recognizing that he was there, just staring blankly ahead.

It was quite terrifying.

He held her hand now, singing a lullaby softly, and hoping. He hoped and prayed to the darkness, prayed to the goddesses his mother prayed to, and prayed to the god he didn't even believe in. He was terrified for her because, at this point, even the doctors didn't know what to think.

So he prayed and hoped and prayed some more.

"Rastsvetali yabloni i grushi,  
poplýli tumani nad rekoi,  
výkhadyila na byereg Katyusha,  
na výsoki byereg, na krutoi…"

And he kept singing, holding to her hand, trying through some strange osmosis to make her well again. He was so busy praying and hoping and singing that he didn't hear her heart monitor.

_Beep-beep, beep-beep, beep-beep, beep-beep_

He didn't know that his baby sister's brain was malfunctioning, finally falling victim to the virus.

_Beep-beep . . . beep-beep . . . beep-beep . . . beep-beep_

He didn't know that, because of this, the electric signals failed to communicate to her lungs, which normally told them to inhale and exhale. Thus, oxygen wasn't pumped through her blood, pumped to her heart.

_Beep . . . beep . . . beep . . . beep_

Of course, he didn't know this until it was far too late.

**Beeeeeeeeeeeep**.

-o0o-

Authoress Note: Cliffhanger! /shot. For those of you who are wondering, the stuff about Kyouya's mom is from my fic, which has become headcanon to me now, here: .net/s/5026261/1/Castle_Down (or Castle Down if the link doesn't work. You can find it in my profile). Once again, sorry for the delay. Now that summer is here, I should have more time. :3


	11. Dance in the Dark

Warnings: Implications of sex, more angst.

Disclaimer: I don't own Ouran. Also, please remember that the illness that Kirimi has is 60% tru fax, and 40% creative license. I've been meaning to say that, so if there are medical personnel reading this, don't take it too seriously.

Authoress Note: Okay, I'm going to start by saying there will be sex "in" this chapter. But, it is not in the chapter itself, so if you'd like to read it, I will provide a link at the point the sex will take place. Also, this is absolutely the shortest chapter without the smut. xD

I know I've promised speedier updates, but, eh, blame the Hetalia kink meme. There have been two request freezes over the summer, curses.

- - - o0o - - -

The next few moments passed by Nekozawa as though he was moving in the ocean. Everything was in slow motion, blurry, with a roaring rushing past his ears like gallons of water and he watched, as though from an out of body experience, as doctors and nurses rushed past him, medical equipment in their hands. He was pushed, shoved out of the way, when he saw someone rip open her hospital gown to make way for a defibrillator, which was the exact moment when someone told him, "Sir you'll have to leave," and the next thing he noticed was her hospital door being shut in his face.

The realization of what had just happened hit him suddenly like a jolt and it felt like one of his panic attacks with light, but with less external pain and more internal. He felt like he couldn't breathe for a second, the horror of the situation compacting his lungs and he was startled that there were tears streaming down his face.

He covered his mouth, suddenly terrified, as the pain caused a sob to rip through him and once he was aware of the people in his surroundings, staring, he fled to the restroom where he broke down completely.

"Oh god," he gasped, unable to stop the tears as he leaned against the inside of a stall. He wondered why the universe was so cruel to him. What had he ever done?

He couldn't take it anymore and he didn't want to be there any longer. He couldn't stand being in such an atmosphere. He took out his phone, his lover's name on his mind.

_Nothing can hurt you while I'm here._

His fingers shook as he dialed.

-o0o-

Kyouya was in the middle of a meeting with Kameko (after all they still needed to keep up appearances) when his cell phone rang. They were outside, walking along the path in her family's garden when it happened and he excused himself, seeing the caller ID.

"Hello?" He answered, some what surprised that the blonde would be calling him. Shouldn't he have been at the hospital?

"She's gone," a broken voice sobbed on the other end.

Kyouya straightened immediately, concern etching a frown on him, and Kameko stepped closer to him, curious.

"Excuse me?"

"K-Kirimi, she—she flat-lined." Kyouya heard a sharp intake of shaky breath. The other's pain was palpable.

"Is she…?" Kyouya didn't know how to say it. Partially because he was so shocked he could scarcely believe it and partially because he didn't want to upset the other further.

"I-I don't know. They were trying to revive her when they made me leave, but," there was a sob, "god, she-she might be _dead_." There was a pause and Kyouya's concerned frown grew deeper. He didn't know what to say to the awful news.

"Come and get me," the other blurted.

"Excuse me?"

"C-come and take me away from here. I—I can't stand it." His voice was wavering and the next thing he said sounded uncharacteristically small.

"I need you."

Kyouya took a deep breath and looked at Kameko, who still looked alarmed and curious.

"Okay. Yeah, okay, I'll be there. Have you told your parents yet?"

"No."

"Call them and I'll be there as soon as I can." Then he quickly added, "Try not to lose hope."

There was a pause and then, "Thank you."

"You're welcome. I'll see you later."

"Goodbye."

They both hung up and Kyouya looked back at the other.

"I apologize, but I have to leave—" She cut him off.

"No, that sounded really serious. You don't have to explain, just go."

He gave her a grateful look and nodded. "Thank you."

She half smiled back, "Don't mention it," and kissed him on the cheek as she did when they normally parted. He returned the gesture for once, out of reverence, and left in the opposite direction on the winding, stony path. She touched her lips as she watched his retreating form and sighed once he was completely out of sight. She looked up at the sky, wistful.

"It's a shame," she murmured to no one in particular and continued to walk through the garden, admiring her family's flowers.

-o0o-

Before Kyouya got to the hospital, he received a text message from Umehito that said he was in the pediatric ICU. So this is where Kyouya went, a sinking feeling curling in his belly the whole way there. He met the blonde outside of the locked doors of the area and as soon as he saw Kyouya approach, Nekozawa rushed into his arms.

Kyouya held on tightly, feeling the frailness of the body in his arms. He sighed, rubbing his hands up and down Nekozawa's back, hopefully comforting him.

"How bad is it?" He asked with caution. The fact that Nekozawa didn't start, and hadn't been, sobbing was a good one.

"They revived her, thankfully, but they put her on a breathing tube. They're running some tests on her now, trying to figure out what happened." Nekozawa's voice was muffled and he drew back, looking up at Kyouya, serious. His eyes were puffy red and exhausted, and with a sigh he buried himself back into Kyouya's embrace.

"Take me away from here. Please, I can't stand it any longer."

"Alright," Kyouya kissed the top of his forehead. "Where do you want to go?"

"My place."

They pulled apart just in time to see a hospital worker pass them and put in the code to enter the ICU. They both watched and once she was gone, they resumed their conversation.

"Do your parents know you're going to be leaving?"

"Yeah, they're already here. I told them I would be."

Kyouya nodded and placed another kiss on Umehito's forehead. "Okay, let's go."

-o0o-

The whole ride to the Nekozawa mansion, Kyouya noticed that the blonde was particularly clingy, but it was perfectly understandable. Umehito needed comfort and love and someone to tell him everything was going to be okay and while Kyouya wasn't sure if he could provide love, he could try to comfort and he would tell Nekozawa that everything was going to be okay as long as the blonde felt he needed to hear it.

So Nekozawa had sullenly leaned onto Kyouya's shoulder the whole ride to his home (he barely even moved when the door was opened) and Kyouya wrapped an arm around him, stroking his side. The blonde had relaxed into the heat of his embrace and he seemed strangely lost in his thoughts the whole ride. This was the only explanation Kyouya could come up with when they both reached Nekozawa's room and Nekozawa locked him in a passionate kiss.

The whole action seemed wholly inappropriate (after all, they were only a half-hour removed from the hospital) and when Nekozawa started to drag him towards the bed, Kyouya broke the kiss, confused.

"What are you—?" His question was cut off by lips on his. Nekozawa's breath was hot and his voice and body were even hotter.

"I need you—I need you more than anything right now and I-I need a distraction. If I keep thinking about it, god, I don't know what I'll do, but I want you so much right now it hurts and the thought of Kirimi hurts even more."

Kyouya paused. He was quite frankly shocked that this would come up _now_, of all times. For Nekozawa to even be thinking about sex, it seemed so wrong with its timing. Sure, Kyouya had said that if they both wanted it, then the next time they would do it, but logically, he knew that he shouldn't—that they shouldn't. Nekozawa's emotional wounds were still bleeding raw and he wasn't thinking clearly. He was probably confusing one emotion for another.

"Have you ever done this before?" He asked after a little while.

"No," Nekozawa admitted, "but, believe me; I know enough about my sexuality to know what I want." _Which is you_ was the part left unspoken.

"Are you sure? Are you sure that you aren't doing this just for the distraction?"

Nekozawa smiled and wrapped his arms around Kyouya's waist.

"I love you," he stated. "I love you and I've wanted this for a very, very long time." He leaned in again and kissed other before whispering, "And I know you want it too."

Kyouya's resolve began to crumble as he felt desire igniting through him.

"It's going to hurt," he tried, finally.

"I know."

"You might regret this."

"I don't care."

"Are you positive?"

"Absolutely."

Kyouya couldn't deny the other much longer, especially not in such proximity. He licked his lips.

"Alright."

-o0o-

**Authoress Note**: This is where the smut is supposed to be. If you want to read it you can go here** (It has very explicit sex) **:

www. fanfiction .net/s/6209880/1/Dance_in_the_Dark

(take out spaces)

Or go to my profile and find "Dance in the Dark"

If you don't want to read it, you can continue with this story.

-o0o-

When Nekozawa woke up, he woke with the feeling that something distinct had happened. His mind was cloudy and it took a few seconds to realize what that distinct thing was, and to feel the arm across his naked waist.

He lost his virginity.

He just lost his virginity.

Nekozawa wasn't sure how that thought would have made him feel, but he doesn't feel much different. A little sore, sure, and a little relieved that his initial fear that he would become a forty-year-old virgin was unfounded. But, for the most part, internally, he felt the same.

"How are you feeling?"

Nekozawa jumped, not realizing that Kyouya was awake.

"I'm uh," he swallowed, his throat unusually raw, "I'm fine. A little sore." Then he paused, thinking about the previous train of thought he had.

"Is it supposed to feel different?"

Kyouya's thumb circled around his waist, soothing.

"It didn't for me," he answered honestly.

"Oh."

Nekozawa was about to ask the other who had taken his virginity, when suddenly, the thought of why they had sex came to him, and it threw him into a panic. Because, yes, he had forgotten about his troubles, but _he had forgotten about his troubles_ and Kirimi was still at the hospital, and something could have happened to her. What was he _thinking_? If something did happen, he would never forgive himself.

Panicked, he got out of bed and starting to gather his clothes in a fury until a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"What are you doing?"

"Kirimi, she's still at the hospital and something could've happened and-and," he was silenced by a finger on his lips.

"Everything is probably fine. If anything drastic happened, I'm sure your parents would let you know and call."

Nekozawa's manic behavior calmed down a little with the rationality of Kyouya's words. He worried his lip, thinking about it.

"But I still want to go to the hospital. I need to see her."

Kyouya nodded. "That's fine."

After they both got dressed, they went back to the hospital and found that nothing had changed, which was probably the most devastating news of all. Kirimi looked like a lifeless, porcelain figurine when Kyouya saw her (after briefly introducing himself as a friend to Umehito's parents). The breathing tube in her throat made the blonde cringe, and Kyouya could only feel sympathetic as he watched, from afar, the boy stroke his sister's dull hair, telling her unresponsive body that it was all going to be okay.

"It is good he has you."

Kyouya turned around, surprised, to see Umehito's mother standing there. She was a pretty blonde with her son's dainty features and Kyouya couldn't help but notice she was wearing all black. Her blue eyes crinkled sadly as she stared at the scene before her.

"I know we are not always there for him, but it is good he has a friend," she told him in heavily accented Japanese.

Kyouya nodded absently. "Yes, it would be really difficult to get through this alone."

There was a small lapse of silence and then,

"Take care of him, please."

Kyouya looked back at her, caught off guard by the sincerity of the remark. She looked at him and clarified.

"You seem like the only thing that's holding him together right now, so please make sure nothing harms him. I think he would fall apart."

"I will," Kyouya answered, honestly.

After he and Nekozawa had had sex, Kyouya had felt the indescribable urge to protect him. It was a strange warmth, flooding in his arms and veins and it was how he felt then, like wrapping the boy in a cocoon and never letting harm come his way.

"I will, ma'am. I will."

- - - o0o - - -

Authoress Note: Uh-oh, Nekozawa lost the big V. We have passed a major hunk of this story, it is time to celebrate~


	12. Ripped Away

Warnings: Angst (do I even need to say that by this point), violence

Disclaimer: I don't own Ouran

Authoress Note: Um, Happy New Year? Lol, I know it's been forever guys. Y'all might want to re-read before reading this chapter. I'd just like to point out a few things.

1: Sorry for the shortness, but shit seriously hits the fan after this chapter. Call it the climax.

2. Kyouya and Nekozawa have been together for three months now, for those who've been keeping track. They were together for about two when they had sex for the first time.

3. This chapter is to mostly explain some stuff that will have a big impact later on. So while it's short and boring, it's really important.

4. I've got the ending mapped out! Yay!

- - - o0o - - -

For the next few weeks, Nekozawa felt like he was enclosed in a bubble, a bubble that reflected back all outer happiness and kept the misery within. Time passed by him, sure, but at the same time, not really. Kirimi's condition didn't really change, but the doctor's said that the longer she didn't wake up, the less of a chance there was that she would and even if she did, her life definitely would not be the same afterword. He still wasn't sure how he could stand seeing Kirimi so deathly still with tubes taped into her neck and those wires that were keeping her alive.

It was difficult to be strong, but Nekozawa tried.

His relationship with Kyouya was a good distraction and morale booster. If it wasn't for the tragedy involved with Kirimi, Nekozawa probably would have been the happiest he had ever been.

Truly, the relationship was the only thing that was keeping him from having a complete breakdown, which wasn't something that he wanted Kyouya to witness, because the truth was Nekozawa hadn't told him just exactly what insanity his mind held. He was afraid that Kyouya would be turned off by the demons lurking there, the craziness.

He was already embarrassed that Kyouya had witnessed one of his panic attacks. Just the thought of it—of him lashing out in hysterics—put a heavy feeling in his stomach. But that was just the tip of the ice. Even through all of that he thought that was better than Kyouya witnessing a moment when the depression became too great and his mind began to unravel, just like it first did when he was twelve.

Truly, Umehito had never been the most stable. His obsession with darkness and his phobia of light left him unusual. Being homeschooled because of this up until the sixth grade left him socially stinted.

He had suffered a huge culture shock when he first entered the seventh grade. He was unprepared for the bullying, taunting and teasing. And what was worse was that no one seemed to care. He felt crazy, trying to convince his parents, who were becoming more distant to him, that he wasn't lying or exaggerating about the events that happened to him at school. It was around this time that he had adopted Bereznoff, his only friend at that point.

(Looking back Nekozawa wondered if this was the reason he had fallen for Kyouya so hard; the other didn't judge him or think he was crazy like the others).

But the act only made the bullying increase. Not only was he a freak of nature (with ghostly pale skin and bright blue eyes), but he was a little kid for carrying around a toy with him.

That was the first time they had ever resulted to physical violence. Two kids held him down while the others took turns kicking. He had never been more humiliated in his life.

He didn't even bother going to the school nurse after that. He just skipped school and went home to his room where he could have a good cry. He grew rash; he broke down in hysterics and wondered if life like that could possibly be worth living. He receded into a dark place in his mind, where there was absolutely no light, and it terrified him. He was afraid of the thought of facing that everyday.

Irrational, he stole a razor from his parent's bathroom and sat in the dark of his room, in nothing but briefs, wondering where would be the best place to cut. What would be the quickest way to end his life?

But in the end, he couldn't.

As scary as the thought of facing that darkness everyday was, not only was he afraid of dying, but if he failed, he didn't want to be labeled as "that suicidal freak" and picked on more. But he was not, however, expecting a maid, who had no clue he was even home, to flick on the light to his room, startling him.

He accidently squeezed the razor blade in his hand, slicing it open.

He panicked.

He could only think what he must look like, with blood now dripping on his leg, a razor blade in hand. The multiple bruises didn't help either. He was suddenly so terrified the light overhead didn't even bother him.

No, his overstressed and corned mind reasoned that, somehow, the maid before him, who had the same deer-in-the-headlights look that he had, would tell his enemies at school. Then the thought of being bullied more, of being _beaten_ more, terrified him so much it threw him deeper in hysterics.

He couldn't breathe; he couldn't think. He could only think about the bruises planted all over his body like kisses that still freshly ached. He thought of them pummeling him again, their jeers, and the humiliation he felt.

Umehito frantically got up and scrambled away from her, placing the razor blade to his throat.

"G-get away from me!" He shouted, so frightened, so cornered and panicked he was ready to do it. He didn't notice the hot tears rolling down his cheeks. He could only feel the panic and hysteria disjointed in his head as screams that were confusing him.

"I'll-I'll do it if you come closer, I will!"

The maid seemed startled, but somehow got his parents into the room. After about a half-hour of negotiating, he had collapsed into sobs in his parents' arms while a doctor tended to his hand.

They sent him to therapy after that and that was when he developed the dark prince persona, became interested in black magic. He soon learned that if he projected an exterior that was angry, dark and scary, his former tormentors would leave him alone. Unfortunately, it left him _completely_ alone, but he grew used to the solitude and his therapist gave him antidepressants for those times when his world became too dark.

While Umehito hadn't experienced something that drastic in a very long time, sometimes the darkness did become too great. Kyouya had helped a lot recently (in fact, he was sure his mind might've crumbled if it wasn't for the other's support). There were days that he had experienced, in the past, where he went to bed and wished he would never wake up.

But those days were far behind him. Mostly. The sleeplessness was mostly gone and if Kirimi was well, he would have been his happiest in recent memory. When Kyouya was with him, he felt peacefulness, a light that didn't terrify him.

The only thing negative about their relationship, Nekozawa thought, was its secrecy. Nekozawa knew that they had to be secret—after all, he loved Kyouya more than he was embittered about it—but it didn't stop the sting the blonde felt when they had a rare date. It would be in a secluded area and Kyouya would hold his hand absentmindedly, and their fingers would intertwine, warm and comforting. Then Kyouya would remember they were technically in a public place and drop Nekozawa's hand with a small apology.

It was that, that feeling of happiness that was so fleeting and left him so cold afterwards that made him so upset. He felt like his entire life had been like that—moments of fleeting happiness that abruptly ended like Kyouya's dropped hand.

He could only be but so angry though. He understood that the other was jeopardizing his entire future on their relationship and couldn't afford to be caught. Plus the sex was awesome.

The sex was more than awesome; it was fantastic.

They had even gotten brazen enough to do dirty things in that prop room (though they were careful to the point of paranoia and they _always_ cleaned up afterwards) and it was great. Nekozawa was sure he was well on his way to becoming a nymphomaniac, a concern he expressed to Kyouya one afternoon.

"What does it matter if you are?" Kyouya asked with a slight chuckle, kissing the other's forehead. "As long as you're happy."

"That's not a very substantial way to stay happy," Umehito murmured with a frown and Kyouya chuckled again.

"Relax," he enveloped the other in a swaying hug. "I'm sure it'll be fine."

Umehito sighed and buried his face into the crook of the other's neck, following the motion of Kyouya.

"Yeah…" He reluctantly agreed.

They held onto each other in the silence, but Umehito knew that the bell was about to ring soon and they would have to leave each other. He wanted to tell Kyouya, "I love you," but he knew that would just bring about another awkward moment. So he simply hugged the other harder and pulled away.

"It's time to go," he announced sullenly (thinking bitterly again of happiness being snatched away from him) and Kyouya sighed sadly.

"I know."

So they left the prop room and on impulse, Umehito pulled the other in for a kiss. It was good, hot, and he so, so didn't want it to end. But it had to. So with a final lingering peck he pulled away with a soft "goodbye" on his lips.

The other said goodbye also and they both parted ways.

_Click. Click. Click. _

- - o0o - -

That night, Nekozawa suffered a nightmare. He wasn't quite sure what was happening, but he knew he had been floating. He was in some dark place, rivulets of coldness brushing against his skin and he felt like he had never been more terrified.

He couldn't see (he was in complete darkness, where not even his eyes could adjust). He couldn't hear (it was muffling his ears). He couldn't move (it was smothering his limbs). He could only feel.

And he existed that way for what felt like eternity until he saw a blip of light in that dark world. The light grew brighter and he realized slowly that either he was heading towards it or it was heading towards him. He was shocked to realize that the light didn't terrify him for some reason.

As they moved closer to each other, Nekozawa felt warmer, lighter, less oppressed by everything around him. The warmth was bursting in his chest by the time the light was so close, he thought he could touch it. He felt like he could _taste_ it, the warmth feeling so gooey and saturated.

He was almost there, and ached for it, for the first time in his life.

Then out of nowhere, there was a loud _boom_ like a jet breaking the sound barrier and Nekozawa was pulled away just as quickly. It was ripped from him, the darkness covered him again, and he screamed, as he felt the oppressive darkness come down on him like a sledge hammer.

He once again couldn't see (he was in complete darkness, where not even his eyes could adjust). He couldn't hear (it was muffling his ears). He couldn't move (it was smothering his limbs). He could only feel. And all he felt was a sweet pain that caused him to sob.

He cried until he woke up the next morning with tears streaming down his face.

- - - o0o - - -

Authoress Note: Until next time guys. Happy new year!


	13. Alone

Warnings: mild violence, angst beginning angst like you couldn't angst

Disclaimer: I don't own Ouran

Authoress Note: This chapter being so late is really due to my own procrastination. I had it written awhile ago, but it took me forever to type it. So, uh, this is pretty short. Y'all might want to re-read before starting this (you'll also notice that Nekozawa has foreshadowing dreams, so that's something to pay attention to). Also, Akira Komatsuzawa, if anyone remembers him, was the leader of the journalism club.

- - - o0o - - -

When Kyouya went home the next day, he didn't expect anything out of the ordinary, so he was equally shocked and confused when his driver didn't take him home, but to the Ohtori Corp. Headquarters. The driver's only explanation to his actions were,

"Your father wishes to see you," but he didn't expand anymore on that.

Kyouya frowned and wondered what it could possible be. Kameko again? They had been keeping up appearances rather well, he thought. She had even got her father to talk to his. Maybe his father thought he had achieved enough with the courtship and was relieving him of his duties. But then again, his father probably would have left news like that for the breakfast table. The office was for punishments, not congratulations.

Well, whatever it was, Kyouya tried to steel himself for whatever might come.

The first sign when Kyouya opened the door to his father's office was not a good one.

Yoshio was standing, looking out of his majestic, office window to the cityscape below (the Ohtori Corp. Headquarters building was one of the tallest in the city). His back was facing the teen and Kyouya knew that this was bad.

Yoshio turned slightly at the noise of the door shutting and Kyouya noticed the shot glass in his hand at the same time he noticed the crystal container of scotch.

This was very bad.

"Do you know why I called you here?" He asked somewhat ominously, slowly turning around, before Kyouya could issue his customary greeting. Kyouya's throat suddenly felt inexplicably dry.

"No, sir."

"I had lunch with Komatsuzawa-san today. We were discussing the possibilities of some more favorable press for our company."

Yoshio had stepped around his desk and leaned against it, his arms crossed and his expression impassive. Kyouya couldn't find it in himself to shake that sinking feeling, and he raked through the depths of his mind to figure out what he was in trouble for.

"He told me something unsettling today. He said to me, 'I didn't know that your son was gay.'"

Oh no.

"I said, 'None of my sons are, whomever you mean.' He told me that I was mistaken and that his son, Akira-kun, had witnessed you and the heir to the Nekozawa family in the hallway being intimate."

No, no, _no._

"And took pictures," with that said, Yoshio unceremoniously pulled a photo off of his desk, full-paper-sized, of what he had just described. It must have been taken the previous day, in the hallway, when Kyouya and Umehito had departed. Kyouya felt like his heart was stopping.

"I told him that the photos were clearly doctored and he left it at that, but I doubt he believed me. Is there any truth to what he said?"

Kyouya swallowed hard, hesitating with the truth, even though he knew there was no point in denying it, not against hard physical evidence like that. He shut his eyes, bracing himself.

"Yes sir."

_Slap!_

While he certainly expected the sharp crack of his father's hand against his face, he hadn't expected the full brutal force of it, nor did he account for his father's wedding ring, which left a cut in his face. For a numb split second, Kyouya felt a small trickle of blood roll down his cheek.

"What the hell were you thinking!"

"I didn't think that—"

Another slap, but thankfully with his palm instead so it stung more, but hurt less.

"You're right; you didn't think," Yoshio spat, eyes blazing. "You have not only _stupidly_ jeopardized yourself, but everything—" He cut himself off in anger and stepped closer, so close Kyouya could smell the alcohol on his breath.

"Fix this," he hissed, eyes narrowed. "And until you do so, I'm going to make sure you no longer consider this unwanted behavior. I'm replacing your bodyguards with ones who will report to me."

Kyouya miraculously found his voice through the sudden tightening of his throat.

"Yes sir," he managed. Yoshio's expression changed from its dangerous calm and teetered on the end of the spectrum and suddenly, the other pulled Kyouya closer by his collar. His volume was a deathly low.

"I will not be responsible for what happens to you if this gets out. And if this affects the company's image in any way, then you can consider your future here gone. Do you understand me?" The other's eyes flashed darkly with the thinly veiled threat.

"Yes sir," Kyouya repeated, desperately avoiding eye contact, not knowing what else to say.

"And the next time you want to shove your tongue down another boy's throat, don't do it on camera!" There was a pause where Kyouya expected the other to slap him again, but he didn't. Instead, much worse, Yoshio shoved Kyouya away with disgust.

"Now get out of my sight."

Something broke inside Kyouya that he didn't even know he had. He nodded dumbly, at utter loss as what to do. His chest still felt like someone had taken a sledge hammer to it and his hands shook as he bowed and left his father's office.

That was it. It was over; that was simply it. He would be watched from now on, probably not even able to contact Umehito, let alone be with him.

He felt a sickly sort of numbness that he hadn't felt since his mother's death. He didn't even realize that he was reflecting that so despairingly until he was in his room and found his sister trying to rearrange his clothing and she asked him what was wrong. He looked up, only to be met with a startled expression.

"What?" She touched her cheek to allude to the damage that his father wrought.

"Oh." In response, he touched his own sore cheek, finally remembering the blow that seemed so insignificant in comparison to what had transpired. There was probably still blood there.

"Father," he answered sourly knowing that was more than enough of an explanation. He tried to turn to his books, but Fuyumi would not desist.

"What happened?" She moved closer and Kyouya was hesitant about speaking, but the hand she put on his shoulder was warm and encouraging.

". . . He found out about me . . . about my relationship with another student." It took Fuyumi a second to realize the magnitude of what he had just said.

"Oh god," she whispered, pulling him into a hug. "I'm so sorry."

He stiffened at first, but soon sank into the warmth of his big sister's arms like he hadn't done since he was nine. And he felt nine again, helpless against the woes and discrimination of the world. He sighed, wanting that past warmth to envelope him that he hadn't felt since boyhood and on the inside he wept.

- - o0o - -

The next morning was a deeply dreaded one. Kyouya knew what he had to do, despite the surveillance he was now under. He had wrestled over it the entire night and he knew there was no good outcome to anything. He was an Ohtori and it was his duty to erase the stain that he was.

Kyouya could either live in the present or not have a future and, well, Kyouya wanted a future. Plus, he tried to tell himself, he didn't love Umehito anyway. That was why he was never able to say it. The whole thing was just a brief time of experimentation, of seeing what being in a relationship was like. That was all. (But even in the darkest depths of his heart, Kyouya couldn't deny that it felt great to be loved.)

So with great apprehension Kyouya met the other in a secluded hallway before class started. He tried to barricade his heart, he really did, but it nearly fell once he took one look at Umehito's expectant face. Then the blonde wavered once he saw that Kyouya didn't share the same sentiment.

"What happened to your cheek?"

There was really no escaping it. He would make it as quick and as painless as possible, like pulling off a bandage.

"I'm sorry to say this, but I'm breaking up with you. I can't be with you any longer," he said as matter-of-factly as possible, trying to keep his distance.

"Please make no attempt to contact me. I will block your calls if I have to," and with that, Kyouya handed Umehito back the portraits the other had drawn for him, a memento of their earlier relationship. The blonde, taken aback, took the folders, still not sure what was going on. He looked up, searching for some sort of indication in the other's eyes, that this was just some more silly banter.

"Is—is this a joke?"

"I'm sorry."

It was the finality of that statement that struck Umehito so painfully. It slowly dawned on him that this wasn't some sick joke. The other was being serious and he was being broken up with. Kyouya was _actually_ being serious, the blonde was amazed and distraught. Umehito struggled for words through his shock.

"W-_what_? N-no—you can't—" But Kyouya had already turned away, walked out of Nekozawa's life. It was like a great train wreck where Umehito could only stand still in horror, not quite processing the enormity of the accident.

Then it hit.

A heavy weight of despair fell on his chest, making it tighten like he couldn't breathe, and he quickly recognized the symptoms of an oncoming panic attack. Not knowing what else to do, he ran to the dark magic room, locking the door behind him. He took many deep breaths (some not-panicking part of him couldn't help but to think of Kyouya at the action) and once he calmed down, the utter terror of the moment melted away.

Kyouya had just broken up with him.

Kyouya had left him.

He was _alone_ now.

And that despair, that hopelessness he had felt through most of his life at the situations he often found himself in shifted into something else, into something much worse. He stared at the dark floor blearily, processing everything that had just happened and for one of the few times in his life, Umehito became _angry_.

Why did this always happen to him? Why would_ Kyouya_ of all people do this to him? And why, for some inexplicable reason, could he never hold onto happiness? It was unfair. He had never done anything to anyone and yet always, _always,_ everything was ripped away from him and he was tired of it. He was . . . he was just exhausted.

Angry tears rolled down his cheeks and he felt the anger mush into bitterness and hatred at life and everything. He slid down to the floor with sorrow on his brow. Darkness encompassed him and he once again felt the bitter reality of being absolutely alone.

- - - o0o - - -

Authoress Note: We have to go through a long dark road before it gets bright again, people. Put on your helmets.


	14. Claire de Lune

Warning: dream-death and angst (of course)

Disclaimer: I don't own Ouran

Authoress Note: Aaahh, please forgive me all of those who are still left here. orz I know I say I'm busy a lot, but I was freaking busy. And I only have a few more weeks then it's back to school again. Sorry this is so short. And Nekozawa's not schizophrenic, but this was the easiest way to personify his doubt.

Anyway, remember how I said that everything was moving quickly in their relationship for a reason? Yeah, this chapter and what it leads to is why. The beginning of the climax is next chapter. :D So stay tuned.

- - - o0o - - -

It first started as a whisper of doubt. Nekozawa did not truly know why Kyouya had broken up with him, why he had been thrown aside like trash, and so coldly at that. It was probably a family issue, something at the cause of his father, Nekozawa tried to reason.

Yes, Nekozawa had once said that he wanted Kyouya to choose his future over him and maybe that had happened. Maybe Kyouya could no longer jeopardize his possible success and had distanced himself as a result. There was nothing wrong with that, Nekozawa told himself. He didn't want Kyouya's future to be ruined by a high school romance. That was fine and that excuse worked for the first couple of days, after it truly sunk in. But the whispers were adamant.

Maybe they just weren't meant for one another. In fact, it was amazing that they had stayed together for those three long months. They were too different and it was inevitable that they would break up eventually. Your high school sweetheart didn't always end up being your true love.

And that did it. Two weeks after they broke up, Nekozawa came to the cold, startling realization that Kyouya had never said that he loved him.

It was sort of numbing, like the initial news that the relationship was over and once that realization hit, a whole flood of doubt came through and they were no longer whispers, they were like tidal waves.

_Just because he never said he loved me, doesn't mean that he didn't_, Nekozawa tried to reason with himself. He knew, of all people, how closed off emotionally Kyouya could be and the boy probably, simply wasn't ready for the emotional commitment that accompanied those three words.

/_If he wasn't emotionally committed, then why did he have sex with you?_/ His conscience immediately replied back and Nekozawa was struck cold.

The sex had not been, admittedly, under ideal circumstances. But Nekozawa, if anything, had been using Kyouya for emotional and physical support, not the other way around.

/_That doesn't mean he wasn't using the situation for his own needs._/

_But he wasn't!_ Nekozawa argued back, _ He was the one who didn't want to have sex with_ me_, for my own stability. I was needy, I know that._

/_Are you sure? That could have easily been an act. You know how good he is at playing people._/

But for a long time, Nekozawa couldn't find it in himself to answer that question. Was he sure? The truth was, no, he wasn't. He wasn't sure about anything anymore because it felt like the whole core of his foundation had been removed, like everything had been tilted upside down. And then there was the stupid, hopeful part of him that wished this was all a dream, one of his worst nightmares.

But it wasn't. Nekozawa got the cold, painful truth every time he happened to come across the other at school. Nekozawa would look up hopeful, wishing, and _begging_ and Kyouya would look the other way, cold and resentful.

It was hard to believe how often, panicked, Nekozawa would search for the sketch he made of the other, just to be assured that the relationship had been real, that this whole thing wasn't a psychotic trick of his mind. And once assured of that, his mind once again began to pick out particulars of the relationship that Nekozawa didn't notice at the time.

For instance, he didn't know how it never bothered him that Kyouya was, technically, dating another girl on the side. Perhaps at the time, he was simply so happy for a chance to be with someone he was willing to accept him in any way he came.

/_If he had loved you, he would have left her._/

Also, the situation regarding their becoming a couple wasn't ideal. Kyouya had initially _rejected_ the blonde before agreeing to the relationship and they didn't so much talk about it as make out. And, come to think of it, the majority of their time together was spent in activities for pleasure.

/_That's because he only cared about sex, not you._/

No. _No. _That wasn't true. That couldn't be true because if he had only wanted sex, then why did he wait two months for it?

/_He didn't want to scare you off. He wanted to move at your pace._/

_No!_ That wasn't true, that couldn't be true. If he had only wanted sex with Nekozawa, then why did they break up when the blonde was still perfectly willing to have sex with him?

/_You got boring. After all, your craziness is the only thing you have going for you. He was probably chased off._/

Nekozawa still tried his hardest not to believe the doubt. Kyouya had accepted him, despite the craziness. He was sure of that.

/_He accepted you because you're a _slut./

When, weeks in, the self-doubt because self-depreciating, it was difficult not to listen to. His mind dug up all of those insecurities he had ever had about himself and used it to reason Kyouya's departure.

/_He thought you were ugly, crazy, a freak _. . . /

And Nekozawa tried his damndest not to listen to it, he really did.

/ . . . _A clingy, depressed, loser_ . . . /

But it was hard. It was _so _damn hard.

/ . . . _who can't even protect his baby sister_ . . . /

That part was true. He couldn't protect her.

/ . . . _And who can't even survive without a stupid hood and a stupid wig._/

That was true too.

/_How could Kyouya possible love you when your own parents don't?/_

That one struck a chord deep inside of him. He had, over the course of his life, begun to doubt his parent's love for him. He knew, through his sickness and craziness, that his parents had always secretly wanted a child like Kirimi. After all, the time that they began neglecting him (incidentally the time that he needed them the most, going through the trauma of the seventh grade) was when Kirimi was born. He used to hate her for it and now felt guilty over his initial thoughts of her.

His parents began to neglect her a little too, once she was old enough to be placed in the care of others. Now was the most attention they had given her since she was a toddler, with their constant vigilance over her comatose body.

Nekozawa was sure that when she got better (it was a matter of _when_ and not _if_ because he couldn't stand to face any other option) that their parents' attention would dwindle with her, just like it did with Nekozawa once he became well. And Nekozawa felt like he was twelve again, grasping at straws for some proof that he was not as alone as his bullies made him out to be, because he felt like if he acknowledged that, then every demeaning comment they made about him would also be true.

/_And they were right. You _are_ alone._/

And it became so hard to deny what those whispers of doubt were saying. They blended so seamlessly with every insecurity he had ever had, every taunt of a bully, and his own rusted memories.

He couldn't fight it anymore. He was too tired, he had been fighting over those things for most of his life, and maybe, perhaps, if he just embraced that he hated himself, all those things that he hated would go away. But they didn't. They just helped drown him in that place that was too dark to be possible.

- - o0o - -

On the other side of the split, Kyouya's life was barely fairing better. He now had to spend the majority of his time with Kameko, who seemed confused at this sudden change, but never commented on it.

He felt miserable, to be honest. Like he had finally found one good thing that wasn't ruined by his family and it was snatched away from him, gone forever.

The worst part was when he and Nekozawa would accidentally come across each other at school. It took everything in Kyouya's will power to look away so he didn't have to face the other, so he didn't have to see what he knew was there: accusation and hatred.

So eventually Kyouya grew back into the monotonous rhythm of the same life he had before he had ever fallen—before he had ever dated the blonde. Sure, there were the weekly payments of blackmail money to Komastuzawa so he would never release those pictures. But the price was relatively small (he spent more on Tamaki per week when he was in the host club) and it was chump change in comparison to the consequences of those pictures being released.

So all was fine. Not _good_ or _amazing_ as it had been with Umehito, but fine. At least, it was until two months after the split when he suffered one of those old nightmares of his mother.

He had recognized the dream for what it was immediately. His mother had her back turned and was playing piano, just like the last moment he ever saw her alive. Just like that moment, she was playing _Claire de Lune_. When she got to the climax of the song, she abruptly stopped and Kyouya steeled himself for what he knew was about to happen next. She stood, as elegant and as haunted as he remembered her. She smiled pityingly at him and whispered,

"Good bye," before she pulled out the gun she used to kill herself with. Only it was different. She did not point the gun at her head and shoot like Kyouya imagined what happened six years ago. No instead, much worse, she pointed the gun at _him_.

Kyouya's eyes widened and he wondered what had happened. She had never done that before, but when her finger moved to the trigger, he realized suddenly what she was doing.

"No!" He shouted at the same time the gun fired with an explosive noise. It took him a moment to realize he had not been hit and at that moment, he heard a body thud to the ground behind him. He turned around and it was Umehito.

With his heart pounding in his ribs, Kyouya rushed over to the aid of the other; with the sudden change, he forgot that this was a dream. It looked like Umehito had been shot squarely in his chest, judging from the widening circle of red. Kyouya tried to lift him up, but suddenly, the boy weighed like lead and Kyouya felt panic overwhelming him.

"It's okay, shhh, it's okay," he whispered, more for himself than the other, half-cradling the boy, who was fighting for breath and clearly struggling for his life. It seemed like there was blood covering both of them and Umehito looked up, dazed, and tried to manage a smile. He was shaking.

"It _is_ okay," he asserted with a sort of hysterical, wheezing laugh and Kyouya only briefly caught the statement, too busy pressing down on the gushing wound trying to stop it. Umehito's head lolled a bit as he drifted in and out of consciousness.

"Come on, stay with me, Umehito. Please, stay with me," Kyouya practically begged. The other didn't seem to hear him though. He looked like he was no longer aware of what was around him, his eyes unfocused, and in a barely audible whisper, Umehito gasped,

"It's _perfect _. . ."

Then the light seemed to leave his eyes as his body went limp in Kyouya's arms. He was gone.

The hopelessness of the situation struck Kyouya harshly, and for the first time in recent memory, tears slid down his face. They continued to fall, even when he awoke with an abrupt jolt, past the anxiety of his nightmare. He wiped his eyes blearily and angrily, and for some reason, Kyouya felt his stomach churn with dread.


	15. Fade to Black

**Warnings:** some disturbing, possibly trigger-y material for some readers, especially Nekozawa's dangerous mind state

**Disclaimers**: One, I don't own Ouran. Two, I am not trying to advocate or encourage anything in this chapter. I tried to make it realistic, but I probably still sugar-coated it, and if you are feeling like Nekozawa is, having any similar thoughts to his, please talk to someone. Talking can go a long way, and there are plenty of support groups out there, so please know that you are never, truly, alone.

**Authoress Note:** I'm going to start this by saying, **Nekozawa did not die in the last chapter**. The whole second half of Kyouya's POV was a dream, and I thought I made that obvious, but apparently I didn't make it obvious enough. So yes, he's still alive and not well. If you thought he died, you might want to re-read the last chapter and then continue with this one. :) Also, there are two song references in this.

- - - o0o - - -

Nekozawa once heard that it was better to love and be spurned than to never have loved at all and he used to be a staunch supporter of that. But now, five months after he had ever fallen for Kyouya, two months after the breakup, it was difficult to believe.

Time had gone by quickly, as it is wont to do, but slowly in the regards that every day, every hour, and every moment marked Nekozawa's digression into misery, if he could even call it that anymore. When Kyouya had first broken up with him, he had felt miserable, sad, and moody, but now he just felt sort of numb and tired. It was as if he had felt so much sadness through the course of his life that he simply couldn't bear to feel it anymore.

So he was just numb. In a way, it was worse than how he was in the seventh grade. Then, he had at least felt frightened and alone, but now he just felt alone and tired. He wasn't frightened anymore.

It was unbelievable how tired a person could be, he thought. First, it had been the stress, which had taken a toll on him even when he was with Kyouya, mostly due to Kirimi. Then, there was a certain emotional drain that the breakup had caused, but even then, he thought he was more exhausted than it was possible to feel.

It was like he woke up every morning praying that he was still asleep, because he couldn't bear the thought of leaving that beautiful warmth of his dreams. The real world was so cold and dark for him and he could barely stand it. There was comfort in his dreams. In them, not only could he be as happy as he was with Kyouya, but he could be there without the constant put-down of his conscience.

Yes, his already poor self-esteem never quite recovered and he was constantly reminded of how pathetic, depressed, and crazy he was. This was why he liked sleep: it was his only chance to ever be the Prince. The notion was almost laughable now. It seemed so long ago that the host club tried to help him, that they possibly could help him. Nekozawa knew he was a lost cause and didn't dwell on it.

So days became weeks, and weeks became a month, and then two months without any light. Slowly, Nekozawa's grades began dropping more than they already were. His highest grade was in Literature, a C, while he was plainly failing physics. But he didn't care. He would probably graduate, scraping by on low marks and shame his parents (more than they already were, anyway), but he didn't care. It didn't matter in the long run, nothing seemed to. Passing or failing physics wouldn't determine his happiness in life.

He knew that he was going to be alone for the rest of his life, that he shouldn't have put so much stock in Kyouya to be his Knight in Shining Armor. Kyouya was no Knight and Nekozawa was no Prince.

He should have kept walking that day, outside the second auditorium after he had given his confession. He should have never let Kyouya's selfishness ruin his life. Looking back, it obvious how incorrigible the boy was. Kyouya had used Nekozawa's insecurities and low self-esteem for his own gain, to use Nekozawa as he pleased. He didn't care about the blonde, he only cared about sex and Nekozawa was disgusted with himself (at what he had done and showed the other).

(A very small part of him didn't believe that, though. It was the part that was entranced watching Kyouya play violin from the dark magic club's door all those months ago.)

Once, that former seed of doubt grew into a being of hatred, hatred at his life, hatred at his family, and hatred at Kyouya, but even the hate didn't last too long. It was an exhausting process to do nothing but hate and Nekozawa was already _so_ tired. Eventually, he came to acceptance. Not forgiveness, but acceptance.

He took responsibility for what was possible (he had been overeager, naïve, and just plain stupid) and the only hatred left brewing remained for himself. After all, acceptance of yourself, your flaws real or otherwise, is a terrible difficult thing to do.

For instance, he couldn't accept how artistically drained he had been since the break-up and refused to believe that Kyouya's absence from his life was the reason why his sketchbook pages were so blank.

(Just the tiniest part of him couldn't accept that it was over, not like that, but he tried his best to ignore it.)

Most of all, he just couldn't accept himself. His depressed, ugly, crazy, lonely and pathetic self. It didn't seem fair that he had nothing to look forward to, nothing to be proud of, and even his wishful thinking could only remain so positive. Why couldn't he just take himself out of the equation? He didn't loathe the world, only himself, and what good was the world with himself in it? It was like life was a party and he wasn't invited.

It was then, at that thought, resolution struck through him.

Once he thought about it, it wouldn't leave him alone. It disturbed his mostly peaceful sleep; it conquered him when he was awake. Perhaps he should have been afraid that the thought didn't terrify him like before, but the notion was too exhilarating.

Why couldn't he just take himself out of the equation?

He didn't know why it never occurred to him, maybe he had just never felt this numbly miserable before, but it was perfect. So genius, so concise, so tragic.

He really didn't want to continue life with the pain that haunted him every day. He had said it before, his future was almost certainly one of misery and loneliness. Was it fair that Nekozawa would never have a happy ending? Was it fair that he would never be the Prince? No.

And if it wasn't fair, why did he have to always play by the rules? Why did he have to end up miserable? Every day was like the lifeless, annoying static between television stations and living like that was so very _tiring_. It made him want to go to sleep forever and that sounded like a perfect solution. He would finally get the rest he deserved.

It took him awhile, but he eventually came to _how_. That was the easiest part. The hardest part was figuring out _when_.

His days always seemed so busy and the more he thought about it, the more his resolution faltered. After all, this would be very permanent, but he eventually decided that the cons far outweighed the pros in his life. The pros were mostly that he was (physically) healthy and wealthy. The cons were his solitude, his doomed future loneliness, the loss of his sister, the loss of his _parents_, and really, the hopeless despair that filled every day.

Around the time that he made this decision, his mother must have sensed it somehow, because one day she cornered him in a hallway.

"You know that your father and I love you, yes? And that you can talk to us if you need to?" She asked in Russian.

"Yes," he answered back, but he knew it was a lie. She never confronted him about it again and he knew she didn't care.

So he decided that the day after winter break started, he would kill himself.

It was an easy plan, really, and the day (when his parents and servants would be busy making arrangements to get the house "festive") he would be alone. There would be no one around to stop his attempt or rescue him last minute. He would die as he lived, alone.

The first part was tricky. He had to sneak into the family medicine cabinet without arousing suspicion. He had, admittedly, been off of his depression meds for a while. They had been changed slightly to help with his anxiety and his panic attacks, but instead of fearless, they made him feel blank, like how he felt now, but much worse.

Unfortunately, Kuretake saw him, but if she thought something was off, she didn't show it. Goal accomplished, he immediately set off to his room, medication in hand.

When he got to there, first, he took out a pile of sketchbooks that he had been drawing in for a while, up until recently. After some deliberation, he decided that, if Kirimi made it, he wanted her to have them. Then, he tore out a sheet of paper and detailed everything out, apologizing to his family for their inconvenience and any pain he might have put them through. He signed it and put it on top of the sketchbooks on his bed.

When he was done with all of that, he made a beeline for his bathroom, after picking up his trusty candelabra. He set it down on the counter and turned on the cold water to his tub. With a defeated sigh, he took off his cloak and wig. Everything seemed so different now, it was like a dream.

He was thinner. He never felt like eating much anymore and it showed; he had successfully tottered over the line of being too thin. His long-sleeved black shirt hung off of him slightly, revealing a white collar bone. His low-rise black jeans showed his hip bones, looking like blades of porcelain. His face was also a little gaunt, making him look as world-weary as he felt. His hair was longer, reaching his shoulders, and was a little matted and frayed at the ends, now that he no longer cared about keeping it. The most significant change, however, was his eyes. They seemed dead in comparison to how he felt months prior. Funny though, he was just as lonely now as he was then, only it took this entire ordeal to fully realize it.

He thought about his life up until that point. He still had a hard time finding good and had an ever harder time trying to believe it would get better. He only wanted his pain to go away and what good was a life filled with pity and sadness and strife? He couldn't stand it anymore. He thought of that moment so long ago when he intended to take his life with a razor blade and it almost seemed funny to him. He didn't succeed then because he had hesitated, because he was afraid. That was the difference between now and then: he wasn't afraid anymore.

Without a second thought, he poured the remaining pills from the bottle onto his hand. Then he got a gulp of water from the tap water and shoveled the pills into his mouth. It was difficult, forcing the bitter pills down his throat, but he managed to swallow them.

Almost immediately, his stomach gurgled in complaint, but he ignored it because he knew it would get so much worse. Just as soon, he started to cough, his body's attempt to hack up the poison, but he swallowed more water to force it back down.

Then, after a few minutes, Hell happened.

Slowly, his stomach began to cramp, the worst pain he had ever experienced, and his coughing increased, his body still trying to vomit. When he somehow managed not to do that, his temperature rose exponentially with his heart rate. The world started to swirl. With what common sense he had left, he tore off his remaining clothing and plunged himself into the icy tub, which was there in case he passed out, but didn't die (so he would drown).

The relief was brief because it felt like fire was melting his insides and running through his veins. His teeth chattered from the cold of the water and his body shook with the effort to remain conscious. Words couldn't describe how terrified he suddenly was, it was like he was experiencing the worst panic attack ever, but could barely tell because his world kept fading in and out and he had ever been in so much pain in his life.

While trying to claw out of his personal hell, his world was so disoriented, he thought he heard noises, like a door slam and voices talking, but he couldn't concentrate on it. Every thought went fleetingly (terrifyingly) from one to the next.

Startled, he let out an anguished cry when his foot slipped on the bottom of the tub and he hit his head. He gasped in cold water, choking, and his lungs burned, but it was difficult to distinguish one pain from another. Lights flashed in his face and it must have registered somewhere because he felt really light-headed and even more panicky. It must have been the hysteria, because he felt a surge of force pulling on him, upward, then nothing.

Everything in his world finally faded blissfully, and simply, to black.


	16. Carry On

Warnings: the host club?

Disclaimer: I don't own Ouran, and please take all of the medical stuff with a grain of salt

Authoress Note: Oh my god, this is the most difficult chapter I've written so far, and I still don't like it. I started out, ended up completely scrapping half of what I had already written. Changed the plot a little. Did way too much research, and every I look at this thing I want to hurl my laptop against the wall. I still didn't have an ending to this chapter, so I just stopped it. It's just...frustrating. So I hope you enjoy? Yeah.

- - - o0o - - -

Everything was coming in and out like flashes of lightening.

There were people's voices around him, panicked, hands on his hot-cold body.

_Blank._

There was the deafening wail of a siren.

_Blank._

There were hands on him again and everything was so bright, he couldn't see.

_Blank._

He was choking on something, and his nose and mouth burned.

Nothing.

Then it felt like he was floating. It wasn't the scary floating of before, but not peaceful either. It was cottony and grey and sometimes far too hot. There were moments he thought he was awake but everything was still a fuzzy blur so he kept floating until everything went dark again.

When Nekozawa finally woke up, the first thing he noticed was how blurry everything was and he felt sheets covering him, clammy against his warm skin; he felt a burning in his stomach, rawness in his throat and this heaviness in his head like someone had put bricks on it. Then it struck him, the events that had previously transpired and how he was still _alive_ and grief flooded through him.

Not only was he a failure at even killing himself, but he still had no will to live. He blinked his eyes, trying to focus them, so he could see where he was and maybe escape. When the world came into view, he realized that he was in a dim hospital room. There was an I.V. in his arm, and he was evidently attached to a heart monitor and he wondered briefly if he could pull them out without anybody noticing.

"Oh good, you're awake."

Nekozawa jumped and looked over to see a nurse coming through his door holding a tray of food. She smiled when he saw her and set the tray down on the table attached to his bed.

"Hello, I'm nurse Honda and I'll be your head nurse on this floor, but we'll all be taking turns checking on you. You've been out of it for two days now. How are you feeling?"

Nekozawa didn't respond, though he still felt awful, obviously. He just looked down at his sheets with his cheeks burning faintly from embarrassment over being alive to have this conversation. She cheerfully continued, undeterred.

"Well, if your throat and your stomach are sore, it's normal; it's from having your stomach pumped. If the rest of you feel ill, it's probably from your fever, which thankfully broke last night. You know, you gave us quite a scare there. You're lucky you were found so quickly, you might be on dialysis otherwise."

Again, he didn't respond.

"Well, I'll go let your parents and your doctor know that you're awake, okay?"

The nurse hesitated before leaving Nekozawa to his own devices. When she was gone, he sighed and continued to stare at his hands. He felt so ridiculously awful and not just physically, but mentally. He didn't want to be in this place, he didn't want to be _alive_ and he didn't understand how they couldn't see that. Didn't they know how worthless everything in his life was? Didn't they see that keeping him alive was only prolonging misery? He felt venom towards whoever had found him.

Eventually the nurse came back and his mother followed, looking teary eyed and distressed. His father followed at a much slower pace, solemn and wary. The nurse excused herself and the first thing that his mother did was slap him hard across his face. And then she grabbed his hand and started sobbing in Russian,

"How could you! What were you thinking! Did you think that we wouldn't care? Or that it just doesn't matter?"

Nekozawa's resolve softened slightly and he squeezed her hand in his.

"Hey," he rasped back, "I'm fine," he said, for her sake. It didn't calm her down.

"You are _now_! You're lucky that Kuretake found you so soon and we have doctors on hand! What if she hadn't! You could have lost your _kidneys_ or-or your liver and they don't give transplants to suicidal patients! I—I don't want to see both of my children slowly die!" She became choked up again and she squeezed his had harder. Nekozawa didn't reply. He didn't want to tell her that he would do it again if he had the chance, only he would plan it better. It was then that his father decided to speak up.

"We...well, nothing is certain yet, but it is very likely that the hospital is going to enroll you into its mental health care facility after a psychiatric evaluation. But your mother and I fully support you staying there as long as you need to. We….we feel like we've been neglecting your needs for a while and there you can finally get the help and support you deserve."

The harsh reality of what his father was saying struck him. They were committing him? He couldn't believe it. The unfairness of the situation astounded him and made him angry.

"No..." He shook his head like he refused to let the idea sink in. "You can't do that!" He tried to sit up, but his stomach immediately protested.

"I'm afraid it's not entirely in our hands," his father said sadly. "There's a chance that you'll simply be released, but considering the note you left and your history…." He shook his head.

"No, you need this. This isn't punishment, Umehito, we just want you to get well."

"But..." he still searched for a way to fight what felt like his sentencing, "what about school?"

"Well, school will depend upon how long you're there. I don't know all of the ends and outs of the facility, but something will probably be provided."

Nekozawa remained silent in his disbelief over the situation. They were serious. They were really trying to commit him. He looked away from them angrily and his mother said,

"The facility has some really good psychiatrists that we think can really help you."

He didn't answer. He wasn't exactly in a forgiving mood. It was then that there was a knock at the door, saving him from responding anyway. It was a doctor, judging by his lab coat.

"Hello," he nodded at Umehito and then turned to his parents and said, "I'd like to speak with him if you don't mind."

His parents looked at him then nodded reluctantly and shuffled out of the room. The doctor stepped forward when they left and placed a container of . . . mush on the tray next to Nekozawa's food. Then he turned to Nekozawa and smiled genially.

"Hello, Nekozawa-kun. I'm Dr. Takahiro. How are you?"

Nekozawa shrugged, but didn't answer. He of course had been much better. The doctor didn't seem to take offense and simply indicated to the container he had brought in.

"Do you know what that is?"

"No," Nekozawa answered curtly, not liking this man that also led to his captivity.

"It's what we took from your stomach. About 1000 milligrams of sertraline-hydrochloride," If the doctor noticed Nekozawa green slightly, he didn't seem to care, "Which caused a whole host of problems you probably experienced after taking them, the main of which was serotonin syndrome. Your fever has gone down, but we're still watching your heart and we're treating you with lorazepam to rid everything from your system. Unfortunately, it'll take a few more days until you get out of here, but what I want to know, however, is why where there that many pills in yours stomach?"

Nekozawa shrugged again, not liking where this conversation was going and Dr. Takahiro sighed.

"I don't think you realize how serious this is. I'm sure your parents already told you about the possibility of being institutionalized. If you are, you'll be transferred there after some evaluations and you'll be there until you're no longer seen as a danger to yourself."

Nekozawa swallowed nervously. So it was true. He didn't have much of a choice.

"When will those evaluations take place?"

"Probably after you're well enough. It'll be a few days at the least."

Nekozawa frowned, staring at his bed sheets again. He was trapped where he was either way. Great.

The doctor gave him a pitying look that probably would have made his stomach sink had he been paying attention.

"We're only trying to help you Nekozawa-kun. Please remember that."

Nekozawa didn't reply again, so the doctor simply left (and didn't take his container of mush with him) and his parents resumed their place, despite his silence. Eventually, they had to leave (after they visited Kirimi) and Nekozawa was left alone with his food and the contents of his stomach. Needless to say, he wasn't very hungry.

The next few days were like that. One of the nurses, mostly Nurse Honda, occasionally came in, took his blood and changed his IV bags and made sure he had water and someone else brought him food. His parents showed up a few times, but it was mostly crippling loneliness. He thought it couldn't possibly get worse, except when the host club, of all people, showed up.

(Mostly he was just angry at their association with Kyouya, but he looked in vain for the brunet and was immediately disappointed that Kyouya wasn't there.)

They came in with all sorts of "get-well" balloons and flowers. Nekozawa wondered if he was experiencing a fever dream or just plain hallucinating. But no, this was real. When Hani set the flowers down on a table and the twins began to tie some balloons to the railing on his bed, Nekozawa's heart seemed to stop for a moment, as he feared that they knew the true reason of their hospitalization. He didn't want their pity.

"What are you all doing here?"

"To help you get better of course!" Tamaki declared with a flourish and Nekozawa simply glared. He had wanted company, but not this company. Haruhi gave him a sympathetic look as Hani announced that this was their "Operation Get Neko-kun Well Again!" plan.

"How did you even know I was here?" He asked when it occurred to him suddenly that this was winter break and nobody would be missing his presence at school (not that anybody would actually miss him at school, but still).

"Oh! Mori-sempai has an aunt who's staying here and she saw your parents! We of course had to help a friend in need right away!"

(Nekozawa's face might have heated up a little at the thought that they thought of him as a "friend" but mostly his head just hurt because Tamaki seemed to speak only in exclamation point.)

"What are you in here for anyway, Sempai?" One of the twins asked.

"Yeah, you look like total crap." The other replied.

Haruhi elbowed the latter but Nekozawa's face had gone pale. Should he tell the truth? He was thankful that they didn't know, but his mind immediately went to that scene when he was twelve, and he knew that wasn't logical, he knew that they wouldn't hate him, pick on him like that, but he was suddenly afraid and choked out,

"A virus! I...I have a minor virus, is all."

The host club seemed to take this at face value, but Tamaki suddenly announced, "Everyone, I'd like to speak to Nekozawa-sempai! Alone!"

Everyone stared at Tamaki for a moment before shrugging and shuffling out of the door. Nekozawa distinctly heard one of the twins cackle, "Don't get cursed, Tono" but he was sincerely beyond the point of caring anymore. When everyone was gone, Tamaki's enthusiasm softened and he smiled carefully at the other blonde.

"Sempai...do you know what's going on with Kyouya?"

Nekozawa started, "How did you—?"

"I figured it out. I had a feeling when I saw you two in the nurse's office, but I miiight have looked through his phone when he wasn't looking, haha! You know, he won't even text _me_ during class!"

Nekozawa frowned and looked at his lap before muttering, "I haven't heard from him in over a month."

"What happened?"

Nekozawa shrugged, still not looking up, and said bitterly, "I don't know. He broke up with me, out of the blue. No contact or anything. Why?"

"I haven't talked to him that much either," Tamaki sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "If I didn't see him every day in class, then I would have thought he had vanished! He rarely returns my texts. Rarely _talks _to me."

Tamaki looked at the other blonde, saw the tenseness in his shoulders, saw his hands bawled up on his lap, and sat down on the edge of the bed and asked softly, "You really loved him, didn't you?"

Nekozawa looked up and nodded; Tamaki could see the unshed tears in his aqua eyes.

"Sempai, why...why are you really here? My mother was in the hospital for a really long time, and you know, most minor viruses don't require heart monitors."

Nekozawa was silent for a really long time. He still feared the rejection, the humiliation, of confessing his failure. But he still knew that Tamaki wouldn't _tell_, he may have been an idiot, but he had more integrity than that. So with palms shaking slightly, he admitted barely above a whisper,

"I...I tried to kill myself."

(It was the first time he had said such a thing aloud, admitting it to anyone else, and it still hurt.)

He had expected Tamaki to look sad and sympathetic. What he didn't expect was Tamaki crawling into his bed and wrapping his arms around him. The other didn't say anything, just held him and it was so unexpected, so real, so needed, that it wrenched an emotion out of Nekozawa's chest, and he was shocked to feel tears running down his cheeks. It unleashed some sort of dam of pent up frustration, hopelessness, and sadness and he held onto Tamaki's back and cried on his shoulder, sobbed for the first time since the breakup.

His body shook, and he hiccupped stupidly, but Tamaki just kept holding him, rubbing his back, even as Nekozawa ruined his shirt.


End file.
